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A WAITING RACE 


BY 


ALICE ASHMORE ROGERS 




THE 


Bbbcy press 


XonOon 


PUBLISHERS 

114 

FIFTH AVENUE 
NEW YORK 


/Ibontreal 





THE LIBRARY OF 
CONORESS, 

Two Co«E8 ReCttVED 

MAY. 19 1902 

COPVRIQHT ENTHV 

CLASS ^XXc. No. 
CORY B. 


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Copyright, 1901, 

by 

THE 


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A WAlTINe EACE. 


CHAPTEE 1. 

Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song ! 

And let the young lambs bound 

As to the tabor’s sound I 

We in thought will join your throng, 

Ye that pipe and ye that play. 

Ye that through your hearts to-day 
Feel the gladness of the May 1 

Wordsworth. 

It was the glorious month of May, and the 
landscape of Northern Virginia was awaken- 
ing from its long winter sleep. Everywhere, 
in consequence of unusually heavy rains 
through April, the tender green of grass and 
trees refreshed the eye and cheered the mind 
and heart. 

It was with vital feelings of delight ” that 
a young man alighted from his seat in a Pull- 

^3 


4 


A Waiting Race. 

man ear at a crowded station, carrying his 
valise, nmbrella and a small camera. 

After certain inquiries of a portly negro, 
who seemed to he a sort of major-domo for the 
general public, and being conscious of numer- 
ous country eyes being fixed on him as a 
stranger whom they instantly recognized as 

citified,’’ our traveler entered a shabbv old 
carriage, drawn by two bony horses, and was 

rolled away from the small town of S into 

the exquisite rolling country three miles beyond. 
Turning to look back at the amusing collection 
of small darkeys, fat old butter women, good- 
for-nothing idlers, who year by year seemed to 
spend their time whittling sticks and sitting 
about on cracker boxes, the inmate of the creak- 
ing vehicle almost laughed out, so full of hu- 
mor to him was the strong local color before his 
observant, yet kind eyes. 

For Arthur Leighton, now twenty-five years 
old, fresh from studies and travels in Europe, 
his mind full of recent pleasures and adven- 
tures in the city of 'New York, had no merri- 
ment in his composition that was tinged with 
sarcasm, and his glimpses of the great world 
had never robbed him of that greatest of all 


s 


A Waiting Race. 

possessions — the heart of a child. That worldly 
over-wise, weary look he had so often seen on 
the faces of otker young men was a mystery to 
him ; and truly to be chronically bored and 
hlase has nothing to do with age necessarily; 
for there are many people born tired, appar- 
ently, and others whose hearts, even in early 
youth, are like withered apples. 

A sense of humor, then, mellowed in the sun- 
shine of a prosperous and happy 'youth, and 
watered by the dews of kindliness and content- 
ment, was the strongest characteristic of Arthur 
Leighton’s strong nature. He was frank and 
generous to a fault, proud with the pride of the 
wohl-geborn, acutely sensitive to good impres- 
sions (yet able, like many people of great force 
of character, to rid his mind of bad ones), and 
very demonstrative in his affections. One look 
at his broad, slightly-sloping shoulders, and at 
his firm mouth and firmer chin, would have 
made any timid woman feel safe in his pres- 
ence — for he possessed courage of the highest 
order. 

His father, seeing this, had been eager for 
a West Point appointment for the son ; but Ar- 
thur had written back from Europe that the 


6 


A Waiting Race. 

army, lie felt sure, would not suit him, for 
many reasons, but letters being unsatisfactory 
be would wait till his return home before un- 
folding bis plans for the future, vaguely hint- 
ing, however, at his taste for law. 

On this lovely May day his heart beat high 
with the hopes that laid dormant away from 
his native heath, and bright visions of a future 
in which his name and fame would be on the 
lips of friends or foes crowded thick and fast 
into his busy brain. An early marriage some- 
times made and sometimes marred a man, he re- 
flected, and how would his turn out ? At that 
very moment the image of a certain little girl 
of seventeen, whom he had parted from four 
years earlier, rose to his mind. She was sweet 
and pretty then, but immature, and he was an 
inexperienced youth, twenty-one years old. 
There were no tears and no passion at part- 
ing, although each had agreed that their long 
summer of friendship having ripened into an 
engagement, they would remain true to- each 
other until Arthur’s return from Europe. 

Leighton pere had advised his son to take 
advantage of the recent wave of family pros* 
perity to continue his travels on the Continent, 


7 


' A Waiting Race. 

at the same time reading and studying law at 
night, in order to he ready for his final course 
on his return home. 

In the meantime a desultory correspondence 
wag carried on between the so-called lovers, the- 
letters at first being exchanged rather often and 
with some enthusiasm, and gradually becoming 
rarer as time went on and their lives drifted 
further apart. ISTeitber Arthur nor his little 
sweetheart realized then that two or three years 
even made all the difference in the world in two 
growing, unformed, inexperienced young peo- 
ple ; and it had yet to occur to them that a girl 
at seventeen and a man at twenty-one may read- 
ily have ideals that are no longer cherished and 
wept over when the first flush of youth has 
pa^ssed. 

As this young man tried to analyze his feel- 
ings he seemed to dimly comprehend that the 
loadstone that had guided his feet for four years 
past had been ever the quiet eyes of his mother. 
Did it seem strange to him that his first thought 
was of her as he neared home, instead of the 
bright face of the loveliest young lady in the 
country ? He told himself that to-morrow would 
he time enough to find Eleanor, as she was cer- 


8 


A Waiting Race. ' 

tainly not expecting him hack so soon, he hav- 
ing come down from New York without pre- 
paring his parents. 

Just at this point in his meditations the old 
carriage came to a dead standstill, and the 
driver tugging in the reins to the poor, weary 
horses, called out lustily, Whoa ! ’’ 

Arthur sprang out hastily, running two steps 
at a time up the pretty old colonial flight of 
stone and rapping sharply with the brass 
knocker on the quaint front door. The sound, 
reverberating through the wide, quiet halls, 
soon brought a pair of feet shuflling along from 
the rear of the house, and in another moment a 
bright bandana-handkerchief head was stuck out 
to greet the newcomer. 

La ! My sakes alive ! Ef I don’t see spooks, 
there’s Marster Arthur done come home again !” 

Yes, indeed. Aunt Sally,” the young man 
answered gaily. I have come at last, and 
I’m really glad to feel that four years did not 
change me so much ihat you could not recog- 
nize me. How is dear mother, and where is 
father. Aunt Sally ? ” 

Before the faithful old ex-slave and family 
factotum could reply, a soft sound of light feet 


9 


A Waiting Race. 

on the stairs was heard, the rustle of a silk skirt, 
and, as if hy magic, Arthur^s mother seemed to 
float through space until her form stood at the 
side of her son. Overcome with joy, and taken 
so suddenly hy surprise, Mrs. Leighton Could 
only gasp out in broken words : My son, my 
dear, dear son ! ” 

He was, indeed, the worthy son of a worthy 
mother, and the very core of her heart as he 
stood there looking down lovingly into her eyes. 

She was about medium height, slender with- 
out thinness, and wonderfully youthful in ap- 
pearance for a woman forty-six years of age. 
Arthur was as proud of his mother as she was 
of him, and after the first greetings were ex- 
changed he passed his arm around her waist and 
led her to a comfortable seat, with the purpose 
of having a long, uninterrupted chat. 

My boy,’’ she presently said, why did you 
not let us know you were coming ? ” 

Well, mother dear,” Arthur answered, 

I thought I would give you a pleasant 
surprise, and you know I wrote father 
only last week that I would have to stay 
a little while longer in Hew York, in or- 
der to see the sights thoroughly, and renew a 


10 


A Waiting Race. 

few old acquaintances. You see, mother,’’ lie 
went on, I can’t go back to the city now for 
all that, as I have come home to buckle down 
to work. I mean to graduate soon in law, and 
begin practising as soon as Dame Fortune fa- 
vors me. Don’t you worry over me, mother,” 
patting her cheek affectionately, for I am 
young and strong, and, God willing, I shall yet 
be able to show you and father how I appre- 
ciate all you have done for me. By the way, 
where is father ? ” 

Mrs. Leighton replied that he had driven to 
town, not having known Arthur was coming; 
and after this mother and son spent the rest of 
the forenoon talking and eagerly going over 
the most agreeable and interesting of their re- 
spective experiences during those memorable 
four years. 

So passed Arthur Leighton’s first happy day 
at home, and before going to bed that night he 
made a solemn resolve that he would conquer 
in the race of life, and that failure and poverty 
should never be his. 

Bright dreams of youth, and happy the young 
man who has them ! F or, as surely as sloth, 
that enemy of the soul, eats its way into the 


II 


A Waiting Race. 

character, ambition dies quickly, and with it 
self-respect itself, sometimes. Sleep on now, 
young wrestler with fate, for you will need your 
strength some day. The Powers of Darkness 
are far from you now with your white soul in 
the keeping of the Infinite! 


12 


A Waiting Race. 


CHAPTER 11. 

She was a Phantom of Delight 

When first slie gleamed upon my sight ; 

A lovely apparition sent to be a moment’s ornament ; 

Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair ; 

Like twilight’s too her dusky hair. . . . 

Wordsworth. 

Eleanor MacDonald sat sunning herself, 
and looking reflectively over the bright sunlit 
meadows that were part of her father’s prop- 
erty, on the charming estate separated from 
that of the Leighton family by a distance of a 
mile and a half. 

There was something very attractive in the 
attitude of the girl who had come out to enjoy 
the pure draughts of morning air on the spa- 
cious southern veranda. Her supple young 
figure was gracefully leaning against one of the 
supports of the heavy stone facade, while her 
face, although in repose, was dimpling with 
happy content, and her hands were full of 
white lilacs she had just been gathering in the 


13 


A Waiting Race. 

garden. A large, picturesque straw hat, tilted 
a little now off the piquante oval face, seemed 
to set off to perfection a head graced by stray 
curls that blew naturally over the smooth, low 
forehead. The hair was of the darkest shade 
of brown, and so were the lovely eyes — clear 
pools in which one could read the little history 
of a pure young life. The nose was small and 
straight, thouo-h notin the least Grecian, and .the 
mouth was a little large, the lips curving 
slightly at the corners, and quick to part in a 
smile that lit up the whole face and displayed 
a set of firm, white teeth. The round, rather 
broad chin for an oval contour had the faintest 
suggestion of a dimple, and in the rosy cheeks 
were two very active ones — the constant de- 
light of Eleanor’s father, who knew how to 
keep them in evidence. 

For no girl ever lived who had a more de- 
voted, indulgent father, and she was his sun- 
beam continually as she danced about the 
house, lightly touching this and that object with 
her artistic fingers, and lingering lovingly some- 
times over favorite vases and ornaments that 
were part of her child-life before the death of 
her mother. 


14 A Waiting Race. 

Mrs. MacDonald had not succumbed to the 
effect of the four years of anxiety and separa- 
tion from her husband, brought by the Civil 
War, and had lived happily in her home until 
the year 1879, when, during that rigorous win- 
ter, a sudden attack of pneumonia had carried 
her off after a week’s illness. Her little 
Eleanor was only five years old, a bright, win- 
ning, little darling, the idol of the house which 
had known for years nothing but sorrow anff 
death. Out of the five lovely buds on the pater- 
nal stem all had been boys, except Eleanor, and 
all swept away by the ruthless hand of Death 
in an epidemic of scarlet fever. 

Ho wonder, then, that the little girl became 
the light of her father’s eyes, and it was more 
than a passing regret to him when she told him 
at seventeen that she and Arthur Leighton were 
engaged to be married. The fact that the lat- 
ter was very young, with no definite career 
mapped out, and a father only moderately well 
off in this world’s goods, seemed to General 
MacDonald a distinct drawback to a marriage 
with his daughter. He was not at all purse- 
proud, and was too accustomed as an ex-Con- 
federate officer to sights of distressing poverty 


A Waiting Race. 15 

among his own class to judge Arthur’s father 
for having had a tough struggle to support his 
family, after sheathing his sword in 1865 and 
returning to his native state. 

But it happened that Mrs. MacDonald had 
been a northern w^oman, her father a strong 
Union sympathizer, and his home became the 
refuge of his distracted wife, who had failed in 
trying to keep her husband from entering the 
Confederate service at the outbreak of the war. 
When peace came she rejoined him with all her 
worldly possessions to beautify a home, and 
with money enough to build a comfortable mod- 
ern house, a mile and a half from a growing 
town, and with land enough to be self-support- 
ing. It was here that Eleanor had grown up, 
and had passed a peaceful childhood, even her 
mother’s death coming when she was too young * 
for passionate sorrow, and her memory only 
remaining as a secret image in the heart of a 
child naturally reverential. 

The day that Eleanor sat enjoying the air 
was the tentk of May, 1895, the one succeeding 
Arthur’s return home. Apparently the young 
girl enjoying her lilacs was not thinking of 
him; for, in the country, news travels slowly, 


i6 A Waiting Race. 

and in his last letter, now a week old, there was 
no time fixed for his return. Just as she was 
going into the house, however, she suddenly 
noticed a buggy about a hundred yards away, 
driven by a young man whose familiar face 
and figure, in spite of four years^ change, were 
easily recognized. Almost before she could pre- 
pare herself he had looked into her eyes with 
an affectionate greeting, in which there was not 
a suggestion of passion, however, and had taken 
hjer hand, advancing near enough to kiss her 
lightly on the brow. 

I am so glad to see you, dear little girl,” 
Arthur said, checking himself suddenly as he 
noticed that a deeper blush came into her 
cheeks. 

I am very glad to see you,” Eleanor replied, 
only I am no longer a little girl, Arthur, for 
you must remember I am twenty-one years old 
now, and since you left home I have grown into 
a woman.” 

That is true,” he said, looking at her sud- 
denly in a new way, and noticing how very 
pretty the flower was that had burst into bloom 
during his absence. ‘^Tt’s hard to realize that 
we are both older, and perhaps wiser than we 


A Waiting Race. 17 

were when we said good-bj, Eleanor; but for 
mj part I am glad to feel that I am no longer 
a stripling, but a man. And, as for you. Time 
has dealt generously with you in giving you so 
charming a face and figure — and surely that 
seems to come first in the attractions of a young 
woman. For,’’ he added, laughingly, although 
no one judges a woman for being ugly, still it 
takes a tremendous amount of brains and char- 
acter to make up for the disadvantages of pos- 
sessing a turn-up nose, mouth from ear to ear, 
and a bushel of freckles.’’ 

She laughed haughtily at this exaggerated 
speech, coloring slightly at the compliment to 
her own charms, and shifting her position so 
that her hat almost touched Arthur’s cheek as 
he sat. There Avas something very frank in 
their talk, and an atmosphere of bonne camara- 
derie, though romance, and sentiment still less, 
were absolutely lacking. 

The conversational ball was kept rolling for 
an hour or more, after which Arthur rose to go. 
During that time he had unloaded himself of 
the choicest reminiscences connected with his 
life in Europe, every noAV and then questioning 
his listener as to her own life and pleasures, and 
2 


1 8 A Waiting Race. 

receiving in return a spicy account of two so- 
ciety seasons in the cities of !N^ew Orleans and 
Washington. 

I have more to tell you next time/’ 
Eleanor said as they shook hands, and 
you must think I have forgotten my manners 
not to have asked you in-doors, where you would 
be more comfortable, instead of perching, like 
Poe’s raven, on the edge of this step ! ” 


A Waiting Race. 


19 


CHAPTER HI. 

She walks in beauty like the night 
Of cloudless climes and starry skies, 

And all that’s best of dark and bright 
Meets in her aspect and her eyes, 

Thus mellowed to that tender light 
Which heaven to gaudy day denies. 

Byron. 

A FEW hours later, when the soft moonbeams 
were filling her room with a silvery radiance, 
Eleanor MacDonald sat by the window, a hook 
open on her lap, her hair unpinned of its fasten- 
ings, a loose, flowing robe falling like a soft 
pink cloud around her lithe figure. She had 
said good night to her father very early, on the 
pretext of wishing to do some reading before 
retiring, and he did not try to prevent her, al- 
though he felt some little disappointment at 
the prospect of being left alone. It was so un- 
usual, too, for Eleanor to behave in this way, 
and she had been so reticent on the subject of 


20 


A Waiting Race. 

Arthur Leighton’s morning visit that General 
MacDonald turned quickly around in his chair, 
with a gesture that detained his daughter. 

He was a well-preserved man about sixty- 
three years of age, the dark eyes, keen as an 
eagle’s ; the skin firm and healthy, the hair very 
gray and carefully brushed, that gave a dis- 
tinction to features more or less ordinary. The 
shape of the head and brow was unusually fine, 
denoting a clear intellect and good judgment; 
and he had another decided physical attraction 
in possessing a pair of shapely hands. Brown 
and manly-looking as they were, showing that 
the owner was no idler, they were still the 
hands inherited from aristocratic ancestors. 

For General MacDonald was a Virginian 
gentleman of the old school; high-bred, cour- 
teous, dignified and refined, and his polished 
manners were the result of careful training 
from a mother who had been one of the most 
beautiful and attractive of the daughters of the 
Old Dominion. 

How, as he turned to address Eleanor, it was 
with no prying curiosity that he said : My 
daughter, I think you said young Mr. Leighton 
was here to-day; did you not? Yes, father,” 


21 


A Waiting Race. 

Eleanor answered, he was here for an hour, 
and I was too stupid to think of asking him in- 
doors, for I was enjoying the air.’’ 

A dead silence then ensued, for Eleanor 
knew that her father forbore to ask what was 
trembling on his lips — whether a reference to 
their engagement was made during the con- 
versation. He wished Eleanor to give her con- 
fidence unsought, and he shrewdly conjectured 
that her silence was due to an unsettled frame 
of mind. Any coercion now on his part might 
affect exactly what he wanted to avoid — a ce- 
menting of the tie of friendship into a senti- 
mental attachment, which had already misled 
both young people. 

I think I shall say good night, dear father,” 
Eleanor finally said, as I am not in a talka- 
tive mood; and the heroine in the hook I am 
reading is in such difficulties that I want to 
extricate her to my satisfaction before going 
to bed.” 

With a light kiss and a laugh Eleanor left 
the room. She was sincere in saying that she 
wished to read, but she also wanted to think; 
and the passionate story she was just finishing 
seemed to give color and form to her own re- 


22 


A Waiting Race. 

flections on that all-important subject, Love. 
The girl Eleanor read about was certainly not 
like herself in anything that touched so serious 
a step as an engagement of marriage. There 
were descriptions all through the story of the 
meetings of the tAVO lovers by daylight, by moon- 
light, on all sorts of occasions, and always there 
breathed a spirit of romance through it all. 
When had these two devoted young people ever 
spent an hour in each other’s society, discussing 
solely such topics as travels, books, art or mu- 
sic Avithout a Avord that indicated their mutual 
love ? 

And yet,” Eleanor thought, Arthur and 
I were separated for four years, and Avhen he 
comes back he gives me one little compliment 
that any society man might have ready for the 
first girl he meets, and there is not a single thing 
in the course of our conversation that spoke of 
a happy present, and a future to be made still 
happier through love. I am fond of Arthur, 
too ; but it is necessary for me to feel a distinct 
thrill whenever he cames to see me, or to run 
to the gate to meet him, Avrite notes all through 
the week, and even have his face in my mind 
to such an extent that I find my sleeping, as 


23 


A Waiting Race. 

well as my waking hours, full of his image. ” 

A certain happy family came before her 
mind’s eye at this point, and she saw a pretty 
little picture that was the best answer to her 
self-examination. On one occasion Eleanor had 
driven over to call on Mrs. Leighton before Ar- 
thur’s return from Europe, and as she neared 
the house she caught a glimpse of two figures 
seated on the wide piazza. Both husband and 
wife were so deeply interested in conversation 
that they did not hear the sound of approaching 
carriage wheels, and this fact gave Eleanor a 
peep into the private life of two people who 
had always commanded her highest respect, 
though knowing nothing of their affectionate 
home relations. 

As she drove nearer to Mrs. Leighton, 
Eleanor could see that her face was flushed 
with enthusia£.m ; one arm stole softly to the 
back of her husband’s neck ; she leaned towards 
him with a happy smile ; and Eleanor watched 
as though fascinated, the tender love-light in 
her pure eyes as she said something to Mr. 
Leighton that the young girl did not catch. 
It was all over in a moment, and the hostess 
rose hastily to greet her visitor with a slight 


24 A Waiting Race. 

flush of embarrassment, fearing that she had 
appeared foolish to an outsider. 

The memory of that sweet impression was 
with Eleanor now, as she pictured herself as 
Arthur’s wife, mentally comparing herself with 
Mrs. Leighton — to her mind the ideal wife. 

I have been deceived, foolishly deceived,” 
the girl cried out at last, and I have never 
known what love really is. All this time Ar- 
thur and I have been a pair of children, playing 
and pretending a game, yet never stopping to 
analyze our feelings towards each other in this 
silly boy and girl affair. If I am cool and in- 
different now, what would I be after ten years 
of marriage? And he! What kind of a hus- 
band would he become, after trying to love me 
for years, for duty’s sake ? Oh, God ! ” she 
suddenly exclaimed, give me the grace to act 
wisely and well, and show me what I must do, 
and when ! ” 

The moon streamed down on the uplifted 
face and hands of the troubled suppliant. And 
peaceful thoughts came to her as she listened to 
the vibrating notes of a bi^d mingling with the 
whispers of the night wind. 


A Waiting Race. 


25 


CHAPTER IV. 

. . . Roughs winds do shake the darling buds of May, 
And Summer’s lease hath all too short a date. . . . 

Shakespeare. 

The week that followed Arthur’s return and 
first call on Eleanor MacDonald was one of 
gusty and fitful weather, and for the most part 
the girl was housed with her father, which gave 
her ample time for reflection. 

The deep impressions made by Arthur’s sud- 
den appearance, the changes that had developed 
him in four years from an immature youth to 
a full-grown man, and her ovui pleading peti- 
tion for Heavenly wisdom and grace, on that 
moonlit night that followed their first meeting, 
all combined to rob Eleanor of her former peace 
of mind. 

Moreover, Arthur had ridden over to see her 
several times, in spite of the inclement weather, 
and Mr. and Mrs. Leighton had also exchanged 


26 


A Waiting Race. 

calls with General MacDonald and Eleanor. 
The girl became more and more convinced that 
there existed a mutual indifference between her- 
self and Arthur, and that to continue the en- 
gagement under such circumstances was not 
only derogatory to pride and dignity, but must 
also later hamper her and be a drag upon her 
independence. 

In forming these conclusions, Eleanor’s mind 
was more than ordinarily influenced by the re- 
ceipt of a letter from her father’s sister invit- 
ing her to spend a month at the White Sulphur 
Springs when the gaieties there should be at 
their height. To go there as Arthur’s fiancee 
would mean, of course, one of two things — 
either that her engagement being announced 
she would not receive special attentions from 
other young men, or, in the event of her affairs 
being kept strictly private, she should appear 
heart whole and fancy free,” in order to enjoy 
a summer flirtation. 

Neither course appealed to her as the correct 
one; the second, in particular, being a sort of 
dishonor both to Arthur and herself, and one 
from which her intuitive sense of refinement 
shrank as from a blow. 


A Waiting Race. 27 

One morning Arthur was strolling in the gar- 
den of the old colonial house that his father had 
rented ever since his return from the Civil War. 
The property had been very valuable at one 
time, hut, being owned by a careless and parsi- 
monious landlord, had lately almost fallen to 
pieces, and all the repairs of any note were 
made gradually (as their means would permit) 
by the Leightons. The pretty old colonial pil- 
lars that supported a roomy, comfortable piazza 
had been recently renovated. Bright pots of 
flowers, with hanging baskets of ferns, orna- 
mented the front entrance ; while the rear of 
the place and the side porch were covered with 
trailing vines that lent color and picturesque- 
ness to an otherwise somber-looking home. 

On the front piazza Mrs. Leighton had taste- 
fully arranged a large jardiniere filled with 
potted plants, and two rustic benches at each 
end. The roomy divans filled with luxurious- 
looking pillows, the wicker chairs, and often in 
the afternoon a cozy little tea^tahle, presided 
•over by the charming mistress of the house, 
were magnets of attraction for Arthur’s friends. 

]^ow, as he walked about the old place that 
had sheltered him from babyhood until his 


28 


A Waiting Race. 

school-days, he fell to examining the re- 
cent improvements that his father had su- 
perintended. He stopped very often to pick 
off a dead leaf here and there, or throw 
away some useless branch that the stormy 
weather had broken off in the night and 
flung down on the neat walk. He took a 
deep interest in the little things that make 
up so much of life , and he was a man 
never to neglect simple duties for greater ones ; 
so that every day had its little pleasures and 
interests that were for the most part the result 
of possessing an observant eye. 

Just as Arthur was going back into the house 
to ask his mother to join him a negro man rode 
up, handing him a note. He recognized Abra- 
ham, familiarly dubbed' Abe,’’ the colored 
fleld-hand on the MacDonald estate, and smiled 
a simple welcome — that smile and manner so 
well understood in the South by the black race 
as indicating kindness and good feeling, but 
never familiarity, which always in the case of 
the darkey brother breeds contempt. 

Abe, having delivered the note, touched his 
hat respectfully and rode off, looking back once 
or twice at the handsome young man he had 


29 


A Waiting Race. 

given it to, inwardly commenting on the situa- 
tion by muttering : I suttenly do wish I knew 
what Miss Eleanor means hy writin’ notes this 
early in the mornin’ to that city young man. 
Reckon she^s engaged to he married, or he’s 
bin tryin’ to cote her.” 

Arthur meanwhile had opened the note, 
which ran thus: 

Meadowland^ May I7th, 1895. 

My dear Arthur : 

Perhaps when you have finished this note 
you may think it presumptuous of me to still 
call you by your Christian name. I hope not, 
however, and that the cordial relations of a 
sincere friendship, begun at an age when 
we were both too young for formalities, may 
never be broken by anything I am writing to 
you to-day. 

We met when I was scarcely more than a 
child of sixteen years, and became engaged the 
following year, writing to each other at inter- 
vals all of the four years that you were travel- 
ing in Europe. During that time we were 
slowly growing, both mentally and physically, 
and on your return I think we both experienced 
a sort of shock to perceive how great were the 


30 A Waiting Race. 

changes that had been at work. It was not 
possible to realize it through letters, which, 
though often a good indication of character, are 
most unsatisfactory and misleading in other 
ways. 

Since your return I have been mentally rest- 
less and dissatisfied, and have come to the con- 
clusion that neither of us are in love ; and also 
that to continue an engagement under these cir- 
cumstances is a foolish waste of time. I am 
not willing to bind myself to a promise of 
marriage, made under the influence of a flip- 
pant boy-and-girl affair, and I feel that to 
marry you, now that I am grown and fully 
know my own mind, would be to lay the seeds 
of future unhappiness for us both. 

In the future, therefore, we must meet on a 
different footing, merely as friends, for I do 
not feel conscientiously that our present rela- 
tions should continue another day. And I am 
sure that when you think the matter over you 
will agree with me. 

I hope you may understand me thoroughly, 
and that you realize the sincerity with which I 
subscribe myself. 

Your true friend, 

^‘Eleanoe MacDonald.''^ 


A Waiting Race. 


31 


CHAPTER V. 

. . . And what so rare as a day in June ? 

Then, if ever, come perfect days. . . . 

Lowell. 

A MONTH had passed, both happily and 
profitably for Arthur Leighton, since the break- 
ing of his engagement, and he had more than 
fulfilled his promise to his mother of going 
to work in earnest. 

' He had answered Eleanor’s note the next 
day, praising her for her perfect frankness and 
sense of honor, and assuring her that he would 
deem it his highest privilege to be her friend, 
since Fate had decreed that he should not re- 
main her lover. He admitted that she was right 
in saying that neither of them was in love, and 
added that it was hardly possible for any great 
degree of passion to exist between them. They 
had been separated from each other for four 
years, at the very beginning of their engage- 


32 


A Waiting Race. 

ment, and now it was but natural for each to 
realize the difference in his or her feelings. 

Having written all this quite simply and 
naturally, Arthur felt that the moral atmos- 
phere was immensely cleared. Consequently, 
he continued steadily his law studies at night, 
some days having Idng hours of reading and 
dolce far niente, lying on his back and drink- 
ing in the delights of June. At other times he 
helped his mother weed and water the flower- 
bed; discussed wdth Mr. Leighton the success- 
ful business venture that had given so many 
advantages to the son ; superintended the work 
of the gardener, and often stopped at the kitchen 
door to have a little friendly talk with Aunt 
Sally,” to wLom the laws of the Medes and Per- 
sians were as nothing compared to the will of 
her dear young Marster.” 

She was the typical negro Mammy of the 
South, and her views on what she termed the 
good-for-nothing niggers ” of the present day 
were both racy and valuable, because indicating 
the vast difference between the rapidly disap- 
pearing type and the new. 

Jes look at dat triflin’ thing calls herself 


A Waiting Race. 33 

Lucy Jane/’ she would exclaim. She don’t 
know nothin’ ’bout quality, case she never heerd 
of the way my Mistus used to live down in Souf 
Ca’lina wif all her nigger slaves ’round her. 
Lucy J ane would have a duck fit and never come 
to ef she could hear tell of how Marster Leiffh- 
ton’s mother drove her four-horse team of a 
Sunday; and then went out in silks and satuns 
to call on her neighbors, and then invited ’em 
in to take dinner and supper wif her. 

And such meals, too ! My sakes alive ! It 
makes my mouf water now to think of de great 
dishes of fried chickun with cream gravy, de 
beat biskits, de huge ham, de plates of batter 
cakes piled up on silver dishes mos’ as high as 
yo’ head! Lucy Jane and her kind ain’t never 
seen the like, and never will ; and yet she dares 
to toss back her wooly head when she looks at 
me and snap back at me : ^ I’se free. I ain’t 
never bin nobody’s slave like you, and I’se as 
good as the people I wuk for, too 1 ’ ” 

While Aunt Sally was holding forth on the 
subject of the degenerate modern negro and 
negress, and Arthur Leighton was enjoying his 
home life, Eleanor MacDonald had said good- 
by to her father and had joined her aunt at 
3 


34 A Waiting Race. 

the White Sulphur Springs about the second 
week in June. 

Heretofore her social festivities had been 
confined entirely to a season in Hew Orleans 
and another one in W^ashington. The pleas- 
ures that many girls in the South of twenty-one 
have exhausted entirely, from being at dances 
from the time they are fourteen, were to her 
quite new and fresh. 

She had been educated at home with a foreign 
governess, her father not being willing to part 
from his only child during that important 
period between fifteen and nineteen years of 
age, when the fresh young mind and heart are 
so quick to receive impressions. General Mac- 
Donald had a horror of large boarding-schools, 
where his daughter’s identity should be sunk 
in that of ninety-five other daughters. Yet, 
knowing that a girl’s education is not always 
satisfactory if the English branches are taught 
by foreign teachers, he decided to give her les- 
sons himself in grammar, history, geography, 
arithmetic, chemistry, English literature, sim- 
ple astronomy and physiology. These lessons 
were so dexterously intermixed for the student 
with those of the governess in French, German 


35 


A Waiting Race. 

and music thiat there was no overtaxation of 
the brain, the results being distinctly pleasing 
to the ambitious father — a graduate of West 
Point and a finely-educated man, from his love 
of books. 

The modern college curriculum for girls, 
with its unending list of appalling studies, for 
the most part never put into practical use (ex- 
cept when the graduates are fitting themselves 
for teachers), did not appeal to General Mac- 
Donald as what he wished for Eleanor. To 
fit her thoroughly -for a woman’s place in her 
home life and in society was his first object; 
and she had consequently developed into an ac- 
complished and charming young woman, while 
receiving her education so easily and naturally, 
and in such a healthful climate that nervous 
prostration and other modern evils were far 
from her. She was fond of walking, riding and 
driving, and every natural pursuit that the 
young and vigorous indulge in when no exorbi- 
tant mental tax or artificial, unhealthy stimulus 
are thrust upon them. 

Her hours of piano practise were probably 
the most injurious of all her studies; but she 
deliberately set to work to undo the pernicious 


36 A Waiting Race. 

effects of the discomfort of the piano stool by 
having a springy easy bench made for herself. 
Her father, also, put the old Steinway piano in 
summer out on the vine-covered back porch so 
as to have her practice in the open air ; and as 
Eleanor grew older her talent for music became 
so marked a gift that where most students 
worked five and six hours a day she made rapid 
progress on three. 

How away from home, Eleanor began to reap 
the fruits of her faithful piano practise, and 
her beautiful, brilliant playing made her the 
centre of attraction in the little circle of her 
aunt’s friends, who quickly adopted her on her 
arrival at the White Sulphur. Her voice, 
though untrained, was sweet, clear and strong, 
and her ear for music so quick and true that 
she sang and played every good thing that she 
heard. 

One evening Mrs. Goodman, her aunt, 
brought up for introduction a young man who 
had singled Eleanor out as the prettiest and 
most attractive girl on the ball-room floor the 
night before. He had not made her acquaint- 
ance then, and now, having been listening to 
the exquisite notes of one of Mendelssohn’s 


37 


A Waiting Race. 

Songs without Words/’ that dropped from 
Eleanor’s fingers like pearls from a chain, Mr. 
Thompson felt anxious to meet her. Eleanor 
bowed, without offering her hand, and in a few 
moments Mrs. Goodman left her niece to play 
to, or he entertained by the matrimonial catch 
of the White Sulphur Springs. 


38 


A Waiting Race. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Much allowance must be made for men. 

Tennyson. 

He was a very small, spare man, about thirty 
years old, dressed in the height of fashion. His 
face was remarkably handsome, with a pink- 
and-white complexion, good features, and a pair 
of large blue eyes that, but for their lack of 
intellect, were singularly beautiful iri shape and 
color. His hair was auburn and inclined to 
curl, and the eyebrows and lashes were long 
and silky. Altogether he had the reputation of 
being a very handsome man, in spite of his 
great lack of inches. That he enjoyed this* repu- 
tation was very apparent from the self-satisfied 
smile that played around his lips ; and, more- 
over, in addition to his looks, Mr. Thompson, 
it was whispered about, was an orphan with a 
large fortune. 

Stout, middle-aged ladies beamed upon him 


39 


A Waiting Race. 

as they passed him with their daughters in the 
halls ; and that genus, the female match-maker, 
being in a flourishing condition at a large re- 
sort, did not hesitate to angle for the smiles and 
favors of the young man -so greatly blessed as 
an eligible parti. In less than a week after his 
arrival, therefore, Mr. Thompson became the 

observed of all observers,” and no entertain- 
ment was considered complete without his ele- 
gant little person. He drove the handsomest 
pair of horses at the White Sulphur, was very 
generous in his attentions, invariably polite to 
old people and naturally popular wherever he 
went. There was a rumor that he had a singu- 
lar way of reading all night, too — ^which lent 
an interest to his words. But as he had never 
been known to mention anything in the shape 
of literature, except the Duchess’ novels, one 
story by Jules Verne, and two of Mrs. E. D. 
E. H. Southworth, this remarkable statement 
concerning his burning the midnight oil was 
generally discredited. 

However, Mr. Thompson’s style of mental 
vapidity did not in the least matter to the pleas- 
ure-loving throng of women, who sat for 
hours and hours at a time rocking violently in 


40 A Waiting Race. 

their chairs in imminent danger of cracking 
their sknlls on the veranda of the summer hotel. 
Eor, of all that number, there were compara- 
tively few who could have enjoyed Thackeray 
or Charles Reade, still less Shakespeare or 
George Eliot; and the vast majority read any 
book -simply for the story to be gotten out of 
it, and never for the style or for information. 

The amount of energy these women displayed 
in dancing, morning, noon and night, when not 
engaged in gossiping, would have accomplished 
as great wonders in the practical world as the 
faith that removes mountains. Eleanor was not 
accustomed to the over-dressing in the morning 
hours which she saw at the White Sulphur 
Springs. Almost her only companion for sensi- 
ble morning walks, attired in a simple waist and 
short skirt, was a rosy English girl, one of a 
thoroughly wholesome and delightful type, who 
did not hesitate to express her disapproval of 
the artificiality of the summer resort they were 
visiting. 

Although Mr. Thompson was far too indo- 
lent to wish permission to join Eleanor and 
Miss Wood in their morning rambles, he was 
at the head of all the riding and driving parties, 


41 


A Waiting Race. 

and soon became very attentive in a special way 
to Eleanor. Their mutual bond of congeniality 
was music, which both loved intensely, and Mr. 
Thompson actually warmed up enough in hi^ 
conversations to play on the piano several times. 
He had a perfectly correct ear, a charming 
natural touch and excellent taste in his choice 
of music. But in his squeaky, cracked voice 
he more than once informed Eleanor that life 
was too short to practise five-finger exercises ; 
and it was evident that everything that a lack 
of ambition could do had been done, to rob the 
possessor of a fine natural gift. He would se- 
lect the most comfortable seat in the large, airy 
hotel parlor and give himself up to the delights 
of Eleanor^s music as often as she was inclined 
to play. And the girl who frequently felt a 
species of starvation for musical companion- 
ship was involuntarily and irresistibly at- 
tracted by the quiet attention and admiration 
of her listener. Every one loves sincere praise, 
also, and though she was not vain, she would 
have been less than human had she not enjoyed 
Mr. Thompson’s compliments on her touch, exe- 
cution and the fine feeling that she put into 
her playing. 


42 


A Waiting Race. 

So passed the month of June, and the two 
joung people, though very different in char- 
acter and rearing, still found, one element of 
real pleasure in their daily intercourse. I 
have said, too, that Mr. Thompson was both 
amiable and generous. The first is one of the 
marked characteristics of the stupid and inert 
of the earth; and the second was largely due to 
an income which amounted to fully $40,000 a 
year. It is easy for most men to appear very 
liberal in the matter of gifts to young ladies of 
flowers, candy and books if the sum required 
for such an outlay does not demand a personal 
sacrifice. Alec Thompson had never been ac- 
customed to denying himself anything, and it 
is doubtful if his reputation for giving would 
have lasted very long had he suddenly met with 
some reverse of fortune.. And it is quite cer- 
tain that under such circumstances much of his 
amiability and all of his popularity would have 
suddenly disappeared into thin air. 

Ho such calamitous blow, however, struck 
this lucky young man. He continued to smile 
blandly, to waltz mincingly, to carry the shawls 
and chairs of the fat, elderly ladies, who were 
generally in his train, and to make himself 


A Waiting Race. 43 

useful and ornamental whenever it did not seri- 
ously inconvenience him. 

In a very comfortable and happy frame of 
mind, and with very little effort on his own part, 
he drifted into a state more and more resembling 
love as the days passed by, and Eleanor’s charm- 
ing face and figure, so poetic and iLuggestive of . 
her music, were before his eyes constantly. She 
had had a very fair amount of attention before 
meeting Mr. Thompson; but as soon as it was 
noticed that he began to pay his addresses to 
her every man in the place clamored for her 
favors and dances. Men are very like sheep in-'V. 
following each other obediently, so that long 
before it was time to turn her face homewards 
she had become the reigning belle of the White 
Sulphur. 


44 


A Waiting Race. 


CHAPTER VII. 

How sweetly smells the honeysuckle 

In the hush’d night, as if the world were one 

Of utter peace, and love, and gentleness. 

Tennyson. 

The long, hot days of July were nearly over, 
and the glorious summer nights were at the 
height of their beauty. Delicious odors of roses 
and honeysuckle filled the air, and the whole 
aspect of Woodlawn, Arthur Leighton’s home, 
was almost like fairy-land. 

In the rustic summer house two figures were 
easily recognized from the front piazza in the 
brilliant light of the midsummer moon. One 
was that of little Miss Wood, Eleanor Mac- 
Donald’s newly-made English acquaintance, on 
a visit to the latter at Meadowland; the other 
was that of Arthur Leighton. Both girls were 
spending this particular evening with Mrs. 
Leighton, who wished to mark Arthur’s return 
in some pleasant way by giving a small evening 


A Waiting Race. 45 

affair. The hospitable old colonial place never 
looked prettier than it did on that occasion; 
the flowers and ferns growing in bewildering 
variety and profusion, and the halls and rooms 
beautifully decorated with banks of sweet- 
smelling rosebuds, smilax and petunias. The 
deep window seats of the drawing-room were 
receptacles for tall vases fllled with the most 
delicate blossoms; and even on the piano Mrs. 
Leighton had stood a dainty moss-grown wicker 
basket full of violets, as if to entice some one 
to that end of the room. 

Mr. Leighton coming in while she was look- 
ing about with satisfaction at her handiwork 
reminded her that it was almost time for her 
guests to arrive. He was a quiet, unobtrusive 
man of medium height, narrow-chested and deli- 
cate-looking, a great contrast in appearance to 
the son, who had inherited his good looks from 
his mother. Mr. Leighton had a pair of small, 
twinkling light-blue eyes, and an insigniflcant 
nose; but the mouth and chin were flnely 
molded, indicating a good character, and the 
smile was hearty and genial. 

He was an excellent business man, shrewd 
and energetic, though never grasping or mean. 


46 A Waiting Race. 

and his love of family amounted to a passion 
that was the keynote to all his actions. In gen- 
eral, he had been much more successful than 
the majority of his friends who had returned 
penniless from the Civil War; and this was 
due to the perseverance and energy he displayed 
in all his affairs. Arthur w^as very much like 
his father in all the essentials of character, while 
possessing the gentleness and demonstrativeness 
of his mother. 

The latter was particularly attached to Elea- 
nor MacDonald, and though the engagement of 
the girl to her son was broken there was a 
strong tie of friendship between the two women. 
Eleanor admired and even loved Mrs. Leigh- 
ton, and when any entertainment took place at 
Woodlawn there was no one in the neighborhood 
so quick to offer assistance to the hostess. This 
evening she had driven over from Meadowland 
with her guest an hour or more before the ap- 
pointed time for Mrs. Leighton’s evening party 
to begin. Miss Wood, the ever-sensible and 
useful, offered to accompany her friend, and 
the two girls filled the carriage with the choicest 
flowers they could find as a present to their hos- 
pitable neighbors. 


47 


A Waiting Race. 

Artlmr had recently been thrown with Elea- 
nor on an entirely different footing, and once 
the obligations and restraints of their hasty en- 
gagement were removed he began to see the girl 
in a perfectly new light. She was frank and 
cordial to him, without affectation, sincerely de- 
voted to his. mother and perfectly true as a 
friend. All this he had full opportunity to no- 
tice as the summer passed by, and the days 
brought their round of social festivities. There 
was no regular season of gaiety, of course, in a 

town as small as that of S . But the warm 

weather naturally induced a series of picnics, 
garden parties, driving parties, and even card 
parties; and everywhere Arthur and Eleanor 
met. 

In her own home, now that she was grown, 
he saw her in a new role as hostess and house- 
keeper for her father, and the beautiful rela- 
tions between the two were intensely attrac- 
tive to the young man. General MacDonald 
had never referred, except to Eleanor, to the 
breaking of their engagement, and, indeed, the 
older mam had known Arthur so slightly before 
he went to Europe that it was a surprise and 


48 A Waiting Race. 

pleasure to find what an agreeable companion- 
ship had sprung up between them. 

Mr. Leighton had never been what Miss 
Wood called a booky man/^ was younger by 
fifteen years than General MacDonald, and 
their education had been entirely different. The 
former was a mere boy when he ran away from 
home and joined the Confederate Army; so 
that having attained only the rank of captain 
during the four years of fighting he decided to 
drop the title entirely, and asked to be called 
plain Mr. Leighton. 

“ I have not the cheek to go over and call 
on -so distinguished a man as General Mac- 
Donald,” he said laughingly to his wife, for 
the purpose of airing a very small handle to my 
name, and giving him the benefit of my mili- 
tary experiences. When we meet, it must be 
understood that the honor of acquaintance is 
distinctly conferred on me, and not on him.” 

It is needless to say that a man as polished 
as the General, was equally unpretentious and 
simple in his manner to Mr. Leighton ; yet there 
was no special congeniality between them. 
Arthur, however, had found favor in the eyes 


A Waiting Race. 49 

of Eleanor’s father, and they enjoyed many a 
delightful talk on books and travels. 

At first the visits to Meadowland were in- 
tended solely for General MacDonald, and 
Arthur was contented to appear and disappear 
as a friend of the family, without inquiring for 
Eleanor. Occasionally, she would pop her head 
in the door of the library, say a few words en 
passant to Arthur, ask her father if she could 
get him anything, and then run off, humming a 
song as she went. On other days, she would 
bring a small work-basket and seat herself at 
her father’s feet ; looking up at him fondly from 
time to time, and scarcely noticing Arthur’s 
presence as she plied her needle in and out of 
her fancy work. 

The very fact that he was her father’s spe- 
cial friend, and that he did not come to see 
her, made her appear perfectly natural in man- 
ner, without a trace of the consciousness that 
many girls would have shown in the presence of 
an attractive young man. She would laugh and 
talk to him without reserve or shyness, sing her 
pretty songs, play on the piano, and offer to 
teach him croquet — all with the same frank 
smile, and not the faintest trace of coquetry. 

4 


50 


A Waiting Race. 

If all this had been a piece of acting, it could 
not have been more effective, or more fascinat- 
ing. Daily her charms seemed to increase as 
Arthur watched her in her own home, noted 
the ease and refinement with which she fulfilled 
her simple household duties, and saw more and 
more clearly what a pearl he had lost. 

About a week after the pleasant little gather- 
ing mentioned a little earlier. General Mac- 
Donald and Arthur Leighton were sitting on 
the shady veranda that ran the entire length of 
Meadowland. The two men were smoking, and 
had been playing a most interesting game of 
chess. Eleanor had flitted backwards and for- 
wards during the morning, looking as fresh as 
a daisy in her pure white dress; and had just 
brought out from the house a small table on 
which stood two tall glasses, - a large sprig of 
mint, .and all the other necessary ingredients 
for concocting one of the ever-famous Virginia 
mint- juleps. The day was unusually warm, 
and though both the General and Arthur were 
very temperate men, there was no denying the 
fact that at that particular moment a cooling, 
yet stimulating drink would prove very re- 
freshing. 


A Waiting Race. 51 

Just as they were replacing their glasses on 
the table, Eleanor returned to the veranda. 
She was just in time to see a very high cart, 
with a large high-stepping horse, driven around 
the carriage drive by a young man whose ele- 
gant, gimp-waisted expression made Arthur 
smile. The dandified, band-boxy attire belonged 
to none other than that of the popular Mr. 
Thompson, who had accepted Eleanor’s invita- 
tion to call at Meadowland, some time during 
the summer. Both the General and Arthur 
rose from their chairs, while Eleanor quietly 
advanced to the edge of the steps, holding , out 
her hand and greeting the newcomer warmly. 

At the first introduction it is frequently the 
case that neither the person who introduces nor 
the one who is presented pays special attention 
to the new name or face. Arthur was on the 
point of reseating himself, without any feelings 
of special surprise, when a turn of the head on 
the part of Alec Thompson, and a slow glance 
from the dreamy blue eyes, caused him to give 
a slight involuntary start. 

I think I have had the pleasure of meeting 
Mr. Thompson before,” he said a little nerv- 
ously, though perhaps he has forgotten me.” 


52 


A Waiting Race. 

Wlij, to be sure ! exclaimed the amiable 
little man ; we traveled together last year in 
Switzerland. I am glad to see you again/’ he 
added, glancing at General MacDonald and 
Eleanor as he spoke, and seating himself leis- 
urely on a very large rustic chair, that seemed 
to engulf his diminutive proportions. If you 
should come to the White Sulphur, in the next 
month, I shall be glad to see something of you.” 

Arthur thanked him, but suddenly decided 
to take advantage of the general move for his 
departure ; and in another moment he had 
mounted his horse and was riding back to 
Woodlawn, in a very thoughtful frame of mind. 


A Waiting Race. 


53 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Money can be repaid ; 

Not kindness such as yours. 

Tennyson. 

To look into the reasons which led Arthur 
Leighton to leave Meadowland so hurriedly, we 
must go back a little in our story, to the time 
when he was traveling in Europe. The sight 
of Alec Thompson’s smooth, unruffled little per- 
son recalled in a flash a certain experience that 
made Arthur wince; and he heartily wished 
that Eleanor had never made the dandy’s ac- 
quaintance, and that Fate had not thrown them 
all together, just at this particular time. 

About a year earlier, when Arthur was en- 
joying a summer of mountain climbing in 
Switzerland, he had met Alec Thompson in the 
home-like pension where both young men were 
staying. A certain amount of association with 
each other was only natural, both being Ameri- 
cans, and from the sister States of Maryland 


54 


A Waiting Race. 


and Virginia. And althongli Arthur had a 
secret contempt for the laziness and aimlessness 
of young Thompson’s life, the latter was so im- 
perturbably good-natured, and took such an evi- 
dent fancy to Arthur, that there was nothing 
to be done but to accept the situation gracefully 
and make the best of it. The pension' con- 
tained other travelers, of course, and other 
young men ; hut to Alec’s mind Arthur was by 
far the most attractive one he had seen, and he 
secretly told himself that here was a manly, 
interesting companion to he entertained by on 
dull days — an opportunity not to be missed. 
Having no resources within himself, and being 
too indolent by nature to accompany Arthur on 
his walks and sight-seeing expeditions, he waited 
impatiently the evening meeting, and invariably 
sought to ingratiate himself with Arthur. 
Occasionally, acting on the spur of the moment, 
when the latter would show great enthusiasm 
over some bit of mountain scenery, Alec would 
actually rise from his chair, stretch his short 
legs, yawn once or twice, and then offer to ac- 
company the sight-seer to some spot not far off, 
where the gorgeous sunset could be seen in all 
its expiring glory. 


A Waiting Race. 55 

Rot by any chance, however, would he con- 
sent to give up his morning nap to gratify 
Arthur’s anxiety for a glimpse of the incomp*ar- 
able sunrise — that great sight all travelers in 
Switzerland enthuse over and cherish. The 
sun, just peeping out in its morning gown of 
pink and gold, seemed to conceal in its soft 
folds a cloud of cherub heads ; and as the morn- 
ing advanced, and a greater effulgence tipped 
the peaks of the Alps, Arthur fancied he could 
see the tiny, rosy, angel fingers lingering caress- 
ingly on each lovely spot 

One evening he was away later than usual, 
and the kind*, iiosy-cheeked landlady expressed 
some concern over his absence. The delicious 
Swiss bread and butter at his plate, the bowl of 
golden honey, the pitcher of rich cream, and the 
preserved fruit of her own making were still 
untouched when the last boarder had finished 
the simple evening meal. 

Alec Thompson awoke from, his usual mental 
stupor and decided he would go in search of 
Arthur. He was possibly at that moment near- 
ing the pension, which was situated on the top 
of a high hill, overlooking the little town of 
BMe, and in a few moments more the two would 


56 A Waiting Race. 

meet and walk back together. With these com- 
fortable reflections, the little man sauntered 
along, whistling softly, and pluming himself 
in a very peacocky style as he jauntily picked 
his way along the gravel paths. 

]^ot seeing Arthur, however, when he hoped 
to, he continued the walk until he had gone 
fully a mile from his starting place, and wais 
just on the point of wheeling around in the 
opposite xiireetion, when his eye caught eight of 
four men, who seemed to be carrying some sort 
of litter between them. Curiosity and a vague 
fear of some misfortune having befallen his 
friend, induced Alec to walk on until he met 
the party coming in his direction. 

It was composed of stalwart Swiss peasants ; 
and the form lying still and pale on the im- 
promptu bed was that of Arthur Leighton. In 
a few words, Alec Heard the whole story as told 
by the kind-hearted countrymen, which was 
that looking out of the wdndows of their little 
Swiss chalet, at the foot of a very high hill, 
they had seen a man fall with great force; and 
watching in vain for him to rise had come to his 
rescue. On nearing the place where Arthur 
had fallen, they had decided that he had simply 


57 


A Waiting Race. 

slipped from tbe loose stones that obstructed the 
steep path up the mountain side; his statf had 
fallen from hia hand, and as he was an in- 
experienced climber, he had not known how to 
recover his balance. 

The fall had stunned him, and some sharp 
stones had cut a painful gash in his hea^d, be- 
sides which^ one foot was twisted in a peculiar 
way, making his helpers fear there was a sprain 
in prospect. Recognizing the injured man to 
be the young Virginian who was so inde- 
fatigable a sight-seer, and staying at the pension 
pf Madame Griinenwald, the Swiss peasants lost 
no time in raising Arthur as gently as possible 
and carrying him back to the tender mercies of 
his friends. 

A good American physician living not far 
from the pension was hastily summoned by 
the faithful Alec Thompson; and everything 
that could be done for Arthur’s comfort was 
superintended by the landlady, who exclaimed: 

Ach mein Gott ! ” when she found that he was 
still unconscious an hour after the aecident had 
occurred. Dr. Blake, thinking Alec was a near 
relative, from his untiring attentions at Arthur’s 


58 A Waiting Race. 

bedside, told him the whole truth concerning 
the condition of the patient. 

There had been a very slight concussion of 
the brain, and perfect quiet was absolutely 
necessary. The wound in the head was not 
dangerous in character, but would require 
watching, and Arthur had also sprained his 
ankle in the fall. With injunctions to allow no 
noise or disturbance in the sick-room, and say- 
ing he would be back again early in the morn- 
ing, Dr. Blake gave Arthur’s case into Alec 
Thompson’s care. 

For the next three weeks a more faithful 
pair of nurses could not have been found than 
the leader of the cotillon, and the buxom Ger- 
man Hausfrau, underneath whose hospitable 
roof the unfortunate mountain climber always 
found a welcome. Madame Griinenwald was a 
born nurse, and Arthur’s accident was not the 
first that had come under her special care. 
She soon saw that her helper was absolutely 
ignorant of what should be done for poor 
Arthur, but that he had unlimited means at his 
disposal and was anxious to procure every com- 
fort possible for the sufferer. 

As the convalescing period approached, Alec 


59 


A Waiting Race. 

kept the sick-room filled with fiowers ; alternated 
with the landlady in sitting with Arthur and 
beguiling his weary hours; brought delicacies 
in the shape of jellies and fruits; and showed 
such real concern, that Arthur chafed under the 
sense of his obligations. Alec being untiring 
in his attentions, however, Arthur could only 
accept them gratefully, and hide as far as pos- 
sible the ennui that he invariably felt in his 
society. As soon as he was well enough, he in- 
quired for the peasants who had carried him 
back to his pension, and was told by Madame 
Griinenwald that Mr. Thompson had rewarded 
them liberally, and that they had gone home 
praising the young American traveler, so 
rich, so generous, so fond of his friends.’’ 

Arthur, being once more on his feet after six 
weeks of illness, had tried several times to ap- 
proach the subject of his indebtedness to Alec 
Thompson, only to have that smiling young man 
turn the conversation into another channel as 
quickly as possible. He would give a slight 
cough, twist a little in his seat, and deliberately 
remark : “ By Jove, Leighton, this is an un- 
commonly fine day ! Pity you went and 
knocked up your foot. Did you hear our land- 


6o 


A Waiting Race. 

lady say we are to have a dance to-morrow ? 
You can find recreation enough in your hooks, 
I suppose, just now, but there would be the 
deuce to pay if I had to read all that stuff you 
like ! ’’ Arthur would smile, and take himself 
off for a quiet smoke and some reading, after 
several attempts to get Alec in a 'serious frame 
of mind, inwardly chewing a hitter cud to rea- 
lize the impossibility of repaying such kindness 
as that he had received from both Madame 
Grlinenwald and the dandy. 

This was the summer experience that now 
weighed on Arthur’s mind, as he rode away 
from Meadowland, leaving Eleanor’s charms to 
fascinate the very man he had wished to avoid ; 
and feeling that suddenly the brightness of the 
past month was overclouded. 


A Waiting Race. 


6i 


CHAPTER IX. 

O Love, what art thou ? 

Some called thee blessed, and would die for thee ; 

Otliers are blessed in renouncing thee. 

A. A. Rogers. 

During the next few days, Arthur Leighton 
became more and more convinced that the rea- 
sons for Alec Thompson’s call on Eleanor were 
more serious than he at first thought probable. 
The little man stayed around in the neighbor- 
hood, driving or riding to Meadowland every 
day, or taking the proffered seat in General 
MacDonald’s carriage, whenever the father or 
daughter happened to be going into town. As 
the amiable dandy was on hand morning, noon 
and night, Arthur could but face the situation 
boldly, and in his turn pay attentions to Elea- 
nor that a short time before might have seemed 
puerile to both of them, after dissolving the tie 
by mutual consent. 

Arthur had not meant to be in any hurry, as 


62 A Waiting Race. 

the summer passed easily and happily in the 
companionship of General MacDonald, feeling 
that his chances for attracting Eleanor were 
better by this leisurely conduct on his part. 
He said to himself that she would surely re- 
ject any lover-like attentions if suddenly thrust 
upon her; and it had been his intention to fin- 
ish his law course, steadily win over her father, 
and by being thrown with the girl in a neigh- 
borly and friendly way to accomplish his pur- 
pose finally in so gradual a manner that Elea- 
nor would have an opportunity to fall in love, 
as he had through the power of association. 

How, however, all these carefully laid plans 
were knocked in the head, and to his intense 
chagrin he saw that unless he changed his 
tactics instantly, his chances for eventually 
winning Eleanor would dwindle daily. It was 
hard for him to find out how far her own feel- 
ings were involved in regard to young Thomp- 
son, as she evidently was on her guard contin- 
ually, knowing that she was being watched by 
both her father and himself. 

Once coming suddenly into the drawing- 
room, he surprised both Alec and Eleanor, who 
had just finished playing a duet. The little 


A Waiting Race. 63 

man read music very well, and always enjoyed 
trying over new sheets with a thorough musi- 
cian; though no power under heaven could in- 
duce him to play them over a second time, still 
less to perfect himself in his part. Indeed, as 
with many people, reading music was a species 
of dissipation ; and to dip into one musical sweet 
after another, taste it and then throw it aside, 
was a form of enjoyment that appealed to his 
indolent, careless nature. Superficiality, which 
was inborn, and overindulgence in home train- 
ing, which was inbred, had done their worst; 
and Eleanor often sighed, as she tried to influ- 
ence Alec to take up his piano practise in 
earnest. Seeing her interest in the matter, he 
half promised to consider the request, and fol- 
lowed up his advantage in the personal turn 
affairs were taking by more and more assiduous 
attentions. 

He loved the girl as genuinely as his natural 
capacity would permit; and Eleanor certainly 
did nothing to discourage his tender passion, 
but fed the sacred flame daily, with no effort 
or reasoning on her part, simply by being her 
natural self. Dressed in her dainty white, her 
bright charming face aglow with youth, health 


64 A Waiting Race. 

and good spirits, her supple fingers gliding 
deftly over the piano keys, and her whole soul 
shining out from her lovely dark eyes, what 
man could resist such a creature ? Alec Thomp- 
son looked at her and pictured her in his home, 
the queen of his heart, the lovely ornament of 
his fireside, the wife to whom he could proudly 
present his friends, as the finest musician he 
knew. It was characteristic of his shallowness 
that he never thought of her practical qualities, 
never tried to sound her on books or pleasures 
of the intellect, and never had once probed into 
the deep recesses of a nature alike thoughtful, 
sincere, religious, and as true as steel. 

Another man was looking at her too, his fine, 
clear gray eyes misting as he saw her -move 
gently about the room, and under the influence 
of her pure presence he half closed the lids, 
and allowed his thoughts to wander. She was, 
to him, the perfect woman nobly planned, 
to warn, to comfort and command,’’ no doll to 
he played with, or putty idol to worship from 
afar. He did not underrate her great musical 
gifts, feeling the charm of her playing, and en- 
joying it as something more than an agreeable 


A Waiting Race. 65 

noise — tlie mental definition tlie majority of 
people apply to good music. 

Arthur was no musician himself, hut was too 
artistic by nature to be insensible to the power 
of Orpheus; and he could not wonder jat the 
pride of Eleanor^s father, as he would turn to 
her listeners for their approval. . There was 
nothing resembling boasting or arrogant as- 
sumption in the Generahs manner ; hut a beau- 
tiful love that gilded his simplest act, removing 
all the dross of egotism with magic touch. He 
was getting old, and his young daughter was his 
all. As he watched her with the two young 
men who were both so hopelessly in love, sud- 
denly a pang of jealous fear shot through his 
heart, and he rose hastily and left the room. 

Why had he thought her so safe from loving — 
only because she had broken her engagement to 
Arthur, as a silly hoy and girl affair? And 
which of the two men did she really care for 
now? In his anxiety lest it should he Alec 
Thompson, he thought at first of speaking to 
Arthur and asking his advice ; but remembering 
the look of pain on the face of his young ffriend, 
as Eleanor accepted a seat near Alec a few 
moments earlier. General MacDonald decided 
5 


66 


A Waiting Race. 

to wait -until the coast should he clear, and 
he could speak to Arthur unreservedly. It was 
true he had no objections to young Thompson 
of a serious nature ; though the manly old 
soldier, who had fought through several wars, 
did not take very kindly to the idea of a minc- 
ing, lady-like son-in-law. 

The dandy, however, was well connected 
in point of family, had good social position 
and money, and many a worldly advantage 
that most parents would have pronounced in- 
valuable. To the GeneraTs mind, however, 
there was no comparison to he made between a 
rich suitor of Alec Thompson’s type, with no 
brains to spare and less ambition, and Arthur 
Leighton, with plenty of both, little money, but 
a well-defined career in prospect, and a char- 
acter which, for sterling worth, could not be 
surpassed. He resolved, therefore, to sound 
Eleanor and try to find out her feelings, and also 
talk to Arthur, in the hope that it was not yet 
too late to co-operate with him in discourag- 
ing Alec Thompson from pressing his suit. 

With this hope, the father returned to the 
drawing-room, where he found Eleanor making 
an effort to entertain both of her admirers at 


A Waiting Race. 67 

the same time. In her heart she was sorry for 
Arthur, as her quick eyes took in the situation, 
and she saw his pained, jealous face flush and 
grow pale in the society of his rival. She 
could not blame herself for the complications 
that existed since Alec Thompson put in an ap- 
pearance; for had not Arthur willingly given 
her up, and had he not always come to Meadow- 
land, afterwards, as her father’s friend ? As 
she looked back on the past few weeks, she saw 
that it was this that had misled her ; and it was 
now too late to undo anything she had done, 
while she took it for granted that Arthur did 
not care for her. She heartily wished she 
could explain, hut that was impossible, ais he 
had never said a word of love to her. He con- 
tented himself, day after day, by looking at her 
mournfully, sighing occasionally as she passed 
near him, and by bringing her new books and 
music, and sitting as near her as the obnoxious 
presence of the ubiquitous Thompson would 
permit. 

Day after day they tried to outsit each other, 
until at last the situation suddenly striking 
Arthur as having become ridiculous, he stayed 
away from Meadowland for two whole days ; 


68 A Waiting Race. 

after which he was so thoroughly miserable, 
that he felt forced to go hack to find out what 
had happened in his absence. He was met at 
the front entrance by the General, who glanced 
quickly at his haggard face ; and laying a kind 
hand on the shoulder of the younger man led 
him without ceremony in' the smoking-den, 
carefully closing the doo 


A Waiting Race. 


69 


CHAPTER X. 

“ Some men’s hearts are like egg shells, 
Breakable, but very hard to mend.” 

Theee was silence for a moment, each man 
looking keenly at the other, Arthur hoping to 
see something in the General’s face that would 
be an indication to him of the day not being 
lost ; yet secretly fearing that, -by his hesitating 
course in regard to Eleanor, he was to meet his 
Waterloo. He was by no means of a timorous, 
vacillating nature; but the bitter force of cir- 
cumstance had tied his tongue in the presence 
of the girl for whom now he would gladly 
sacrifice anything. The painful sense of obli- 
gation he was under to the young man every 
day gaining ground, forbade his making use of 
a friend’s privilege to Eleanor or her father, 
by depreciating Thompson as a suitor. Feel- 
ing instinctively, however, that General Mac- 
Donald did not altogether approve of the 


70 A Waiting Race. 

match, Arthur took the bull bj the horns, and 
opened the way for a clearer understanding, 
and more confidential relations. 

I think you know that in coming here to- 
day, General,’’ he said, my visit was intended 
for you, and not for Eleanor. Lately, I must 
confess that I have been coming to your house 
for other reasons, and I have no intention of 
being in the least secretive or mendacious.” 
Here there was a slight pause, and Arthur 
glancing up met a look so friendly and warm 
that he was encouraged to go on. 

You know that all along I have not had 
half a chance in regard to Eleanor, for neither 
of us were at all in love when I first returned 
from Europe. Doubtless she has told you her 
reasons for discontinuing our engagement, and 
of my perfect acquiescence at the time. Cir- 
cumstances, however, have changed entirely 
since then, and as soon as I was thrown inti- 
mately in her society, it was impossible for me 
to remain indifferent to her. For weeks past 
I have basked in the sunshine of her radiant 
presence, have associated her with everything 
that is pure and lovely and loveable ; and now, 
God help me ! I love her more than words can 


A Waiting Race. 71 

sajy — hopelessly perhaps, hut so truly that no 
time can change my feelings/’ 

General MacDonald glanced quickly at the 
eager face of the young man before him, evi- 
dently approving most thoroughly of the per- 
fect frankness of his remarks. He rose before 
replying, pulled down the blind a little, method- 
ically straightened a pile of magazines on the 
table, opened a drawer containing his smoking 
materials, handed a cigar and match to Arthur, 
and reseated himself. Here was a situation 
that deserved his undivided attention, and the 
inspiration to be derived from his favorite 
w^eed might help him to a solution of the dif- 
ficulties. 

It was easy to see that the events of the past 
two days had disturbed the peace of mind of 
the older man, as well as that of the younger. 
He had had a restless night, and had risen 
early; somehow the usual look of freshness in 
his clear skin was missing, and there were a 
few new lines of care around the quiet mouth, 
that told of a pressing anxiety. He decided to 
be equally frank with Arthur, now that the 
latter had made no excuses for himself, and had 
so earnestly declared his love for Eleanor. 


72 A Waiting Race. 

I cannot tell yon how very sorry I am that 
I can do so little towards straightening out your 
difficulties/’ began the General, for I realize 
that you have had an unusual combination of 
circumstances to discourage you. As yet I 
have not heard your whole story; for you were 
eager no doubt to get to the end by giving your 
love us a reason for your frequent visits to 
Meadowland. In this you were quite right, for 
I had already guessed that I was no longer the 
chief attraction,” wuth a mischievous smile, 
and to tell the truth, I could not blame you. 
It is only natural that as you parted with. 
Eleanor when she was so young and immature, 
she developed remarkably in the four years of 
your absence, and she is now a thoroughly 
womanly woman; one worthy of the love of a 
fine man. I am not fiattering you unduly 
when I say that my own choice of a husband 
would have been given to you; since I cannot 
possibly hope to keep my daughter always as 
just- my own little girl. True, I opposed her 
marriage at first, because I did not know you; 
nor did I think she knew her own mind. As a 
father, it is hard for me to give her to any one ; 
but you have won my esteem by your manly 


A Waiting Race. 73 

life, and if Fate were not perverse, I should be 
glad to shake your hand, and call you my son.’’ 

Arthur took advantage of the General’s pause 
to murmur his thanks, although the words al- 
most choked him, so great was his emotion. 
It was true, then, all too true ! That sleek, sim- 
pering, little dandy had won the day, and he 
was destined to lead Eleanor to the altar! For 
a moment the room swam, and poor Arthur felt 
as though everything was slipping from him. 
As if to add to his agony, he heard a light foot- 
fall underneath the window; and glancing in 
its direction, he saw the lovely object of his 
affections walking towards the flower garden, 
her girlish figure shimmering white in the 
golden morning sun — ^her whole person radiat- 
ing life and light. The sweet face was half 
turned towards him as she passed the low win- 
dow of the smoking-room, and Arthur thought 
there was a more spontaneous gayetj than usual 
in her manner. Fascinated, in spite of his in- 
ward pain, his eyes followed . her until she 
was out of sight. 

Before the General could continue, the vision 
of loveliness had disappeared ; and Arthur 
came down from heaven to earth to realize 


74 A Waiting Race. 

with a groan that this simple incident was 
prophetic. Eleanor had passed hy on the other 
side; she had gone, and with her all the light 
of day. 


A Waiting Race. 


75 


CHAPTER XL 

I had not loved thee, dear, so well 
Loved I not honor more. 

Lovelace. 

Involuntarily a cry arose to his lips, and 
starting from his chair he laid a heavy hand on 
General MacDonald’s shoulder. Tell me the 
truth, tell me all ! ” the lover exclaimed ; let 
me know the worst. I cannot bear the sus- 
pense a moment longer.” 

The old soldier was startled by the sudden 
passion in Arthur’s tone, and distressed for him 
as well. He had intended to break the bad 
news concerning Eleanor as gently as possible, 
a^ter hearing the young man’s own confession ; 
and it was with a note of distinct pain and effort 
that he replied : Calm yourself, my dear 

young friend, and listen to me. Last night I 
had a talk with my daughter, and asked her to 
tell me frankly how she felt in regard to Mr. 


76 A Waiting Race. 

Thompson. I never dreamed that matters had 
already reached a definite conclusion, although 
I suspected that there was a good deal in the 
air. To my surprise, however, Eleanor told 
me that she had intended to have a talk with 
me to-day, when Alec came to the house; that 
he and she were both happy and settled in their 
minds, and that they only wished to gain my 
consent before announcing their engagement.^’ 
The General stopped a moment, for Arthur 
was looking at him with such a world of pain 
in his deep eyes, that it seemed impossible to 
ignore it. Holding out a sympathetic hand, 
he gently urged the young man into his seat, 
and continued : I had hoped, up to yesterday, 
that it was not too late for you to speak to 
Eleanor yourself, plead your own cause, and 
win her at last by your persistent devotion. 
She had never said she cared for young Thomp- 
son; and has been carefully concealing her 
feelings, I think, wishing to be quite sure of 
herself before discussing the matter with me. 
You can trust a woman’s acute perceptions, 
however, to know what others feel in regard 
to her ; and she has probably rightly guessed all 
your reasons for silence. 


77 


A Waiting Race. 

It is true that you have not yet told even 
me what mysterious spell seemed to he thrown 
around you whenever Alec Thompson’s name 
was mentioned. I have more than once felt, 
with her that there had been something in your 
life, somehow, that touched his; and that your 
delicacy forbade your mentioning your experi- 
ences, while it was very evident that you were 
ill at ease in his presence; and that you were 
really barely tolerating him, inasmuch as he 
could not be avoided. A certain amount of 
jealous chagrin was but natural in a lover; yet 
instinctively I felt sure that there was some- 
thing else back of your manner. I have no 
wish to pry into your affairs, and you must not 
feel it incumbent upon you to tell me that part 
of your past that concerns only you and Thomp- 
son.” 

Arthur raised a miserable, careworn face be- 
fore speaking, that smote the General’s kind 
heart. I feel that you would surely misun- 
derstand me if I did not tell you frankly the 
causes of my silence; and in reality, they are 
very simple to understand, and not at all mys- 
terious after all.” 

In a few more moments, Arthur had given a 


78 A Waiting Race. 

full account of his unfortunate Switzerland 
accident ; and with generous candor had praised 
Alec Thompson’s part in the affair, warmly 
dwelling on that dandy’s kindness. 

I feel that I should have been an ungrate- 
ful brute not to have remembered how much I 
owe him,” the young man said simply. 

Though I could not depreciate him, either to 
you or to Eleanor, after his loyalty to me; yet 
my heart sank day by day as I saw what great 
advantages he had over me, and how by my 
silence I was ruining my own chances of suc- 
cess in winning Eleanor. However bitter my 
pain and disappointment now, to know that she 
has given her heart to a man whom I can never 
like, in spite of my obligations; yet my only 
crumb of comfort lies in the fact that I have 
been true to those obligations, and have not 
stooped to an act of meanness and dishonor, by 
pressing my own claims after ousting my rival. 
This day has brought me a sorrow that I can 
never explain even to you, her father; yet I 
feel that my coilrse cannot be blamed, and if 
I have erred at all, it was an error of judgment 
and not of the heart.” 

General MacDonald could wait no longer to 


79 


A Waiting Race. 

express his admiration for the honorable manli- 
ness in the young fellow before him ; and grasp- 
ing Arthur warmly by the hand, his honest face 
aglow with feeling, he said : You are made of 
fine stuff, my boy, and I admire your simplicity 
and frankness. Would to God Eleanor did but 
know you as I do.’’ 

Then checking himself, for fear of criticiz- 
ing her in her singular choice of a husband, he 
dropped Arthur’s hand, and turned away sud- 
denly, with deep shadows under the keen eyes 
that spoke of some inner pain. He was too 
proud to tell even his best friend how much the 
giving up of his daughter cost him, especially 
to such a person as Alec Thompson ; and 
though he had not resented Arthur’s open ac- 
knowledgement that he did not like the man- 
ikin, h-e felt that it would have been both ill- 
bred and disloyal to his daughter to agree with 
him. The latter could guess to what extent the 
fine old man was disappointed; but whatever 
the pain, it was locked safely in his own breast, 
and no power on earth could draw it out. 

General MacDonald was made of the fibre 
that took the martyrs into the lions’ den. 
Though the world would see no sacrifice he was 


8o A Waiting Race. 

making in marrying Eleanor to a rick suitor, 
and would pat her on the back approvingly, 
metaphorically; yet the father winced at the 
thought of giving his lovely young daughter, 
with so superior and charming a mind, to an 
insignificant dilettante, who had led a purpose- 
less life, and had never properly cultivated the 
one talent he had been given. He could bring 
no objections to young Thompson that could 
refiect on his character ; and he felt it to be his 
duty to say something to Arthur before they 
parted that would be doing justice to ,the 
fiance, at the same .time pouring a little balm 
on his own wounded pride. 

Turning to Arthur, who was rising with the 
intention of ending an interview that had been 
longer than he had foreseen, the General said: 

Before you leave me, my dear Leighton, I 
want to say a word about our friend Thompson. 
He is a good little man, in the ordinary sense 
of the word, not noble at all ; but distinctly in- 
offensive and without vices. If he is good to 
my girl, I shall forgive him for being an out- 
and-out dandy. You know that, as Thackeray 
says, we can’t all be roaring lions, and there 
must be some sheep among us. He is congenial 


A Waiting Race. 8i 

to Eleanor, no doubt, on account of bis musical 
gifts, and they spend many a happy hour play- 
ing to and with each other. God knows, I have 
only her happiness at heart; and if she loves 
him, she will be contented, I fancy. He 
idolizes her, and has the means to shower upon 
her everything that her heart could desire. All 
this does not concern you, of course, except in 
so far as your unselfish love is concerned. I 
think too well of you not to realize that her 
happiness is so great a thing that even in your 
pain you can be glad. And now, good-by, 
and God bless you ! ’’ 

Arthur wrung the General’s hand and looked 
up at the face of his old friend. Seeing that 
the eyes were growing moist, he could not trust 
himself for another word; and with a gesture 
that expressed volumes, he stalked rapidly to 
the door, and went out from the presence of the 
man whose heart was aching to comfort him. 

6 


82 


A Waiting Race. 


CHAPTER XII. 

There is a comfort in the strength of love 
’Twill make a thing endurable, which else 
Would overset the brain, or break the heart, 

Wordsworth. 

The gray morning light was struggling 
through the half-closed blinds of Arthur Leigh- 
ton’s bedroom, and made barely discernible the 
quiet figure of its only occupant. He had re- 
turned from Meadowland to find that his father 
and mother were gone on a visit for the day 
into the next county; and the dejected lover 
experienced a sense of relief for once that he 
was alone. Explanations would follow later; 
but Arthur breathed more freely to realize that 
for the next two hours he would not have to 
meet the fond, questioning eyes of his mother. 
By the time she returned and heard of bis 
trouble, the battle with self would be over and 
he would have gotten the mastery. 

Crushed as he felt in his loss of Eleanor, he 


A Waiting Race. 83 

did not behave as the hero of a romance is com- 
monly supposed to under great suffering. He 
remembered that he was a Christian ^and a 
gentleman; and forbore, therefore, to tear out 
huge tufts of hair by the roots, to break up the 
furniture into kindling wood, or even pace the 
floor like a caged bear. He had too much con- 
sideration for the servants to disturb any one 
on the place during that long night of suffer- 
ing; but old Aunt Sally, having caught a 
glimpse of his drawn, white face, decided that 
her favorite should not be entirely alone in his 
pain. Her skin was black, and the African 
soul narrow and prejudiced; yet her soul was 
as white as that of her dear young master,” and 
she loved with that woman’s love of self-sacrifice 
that brought her joy even in her sorrows. 

At midnight, therefore. Aunt Sally’s light 
was still burning, and she was watching to see 
if Arthur had put out his; her poor old eyes 
filling with tears at the thought that he was 
perhaps needing something, or some one. 
After a light supper, he had gone early to his 
room, with instructions to the servants that he 
was not to be disturbed, except on urgent busi- 
ness. But for this fact, Aunt Sally would most 


84 A Waiting Race. 

likely kave gone to his door hours earlier, as 
she had often done before since his childhood, 
to tempt him with some dish of her own mak- 
ing, if she saw that he was out of spirits, or 

off his feed.’’ 

As the hours wore on, and there was no sign 
that Arthur had any intention of going to bed, 
she felt that she could wait no longer to offer 
him comfort. Slipping on her softest old shoes, 
and throwing a shawl around her shoulders, she 
left the wing of the house which contained the 
servants’ quarters, and noiselessly crossed the 
hall until she reached Arthur’s door. Here she 
stopped and ben,t a listening ear to the key- 
hole, her good old face meanwhile a study. 

There was dead silence in that room, and 
Aunt Sally remained a moment in the same 
position. Arthur was kneeling by the table, 
his head buried in his arms, his lips moving in 
silent prayer. So strong was the force of habit, 
that at a time when many another man would 
have cursed his fate, and violently stormed and 
raved, he was following in the footsteps of his 
Master, and treading the wine-press alone. 
His heart bled in his own Gethsemane, and a 
few tears of the deepest grief and disappoint- 


A Waiting Race. 85 

ment lie had ever known trickled slowly through 
his fingers. Suddenly he raised his head, and 
Aunt Sally saw his young face, the clear profile, 
distinct and pale, turned in her direction. 

The faithful old servant had but one thought, 
and waiting no longer for Arthur to finish his 
prayers, she timidly knocked at his door. 
There w'as no immediate response, and she 
heard a sound of chairs being moved. Another 
and louder knock followed, and this time there 
was an answer ; for Arthur had heard the first 
knock, and had risen hastily from his knees. 

Without opening the door, he called out: 

Who is there ? ” Aunt Sally shuffled closer 
still to the door-handle, which looked so coldly 
shut against her ; and puffing out her lips half 
whispered, and half muttered : It’s me. 

Master Arthur, yo’ po’ old Sally ! ” Arthur 
had to smile and felt that although he did not 
want to admit the affectionate old servant he 
must tlmnk her for thinking of him. 

Thank you. Aunt Sally,” he called out 
simply, as he knew that both understood it was 
unnecessary to ask why she had come to him at 
that hour. 

^^I’se here jus’ outside yo’ do’, Marster 


86 


A Waiting Race. 

Arthur/^ Sally went on as a gentle hint that sKe 
would prefer that he open the door. But 
Arthur did not take the hint, and only called 
back : I don’t need anything at all ; so you can 

go now, Aunt Sally.” 

This remark, which seemed like a dismissal, 
wounded a little the solicitous old creature, and 
she called again : “ Please, young Master, do 
open up dat do’. ’Tain’t like you to be so 
muley-like ! ” 

From a gradual smile, Arthur broke into a 
clear, infectious laugh. With his quick sense 
of fun, which was never dulled by pain, he 
fully appreciated the tender humor of the 
situation; ajid throwing open the door he 
caught the delighted old Sally by the arm and 
pushed her laughingly into his bedroom. 

'Now, what can you possibly want with me, 
at this hour. Aunt Sally,” Arthur asked almost 
gaily- 

. Whut I want — ^well I’se surprised at you 
for axin’ me such a fool question. Don’t yo’ 
s’pose I knowed yo’ was in trouble of some kind, 
eh ? ” To this there was no reply, though 
Arthur had grown a little graver, and a shade 


A Waiting Race. 87 

paler under the scrutinizing inspection of the 
old woman. 

I could break her hade, I could,’’ she went 
on, without reference to anything that went 
before. ’Pears to me she must be some up- 
start to dare to say no to the likes of you ! ” 
Arthur started with surprise, to realize that 
a sudden hit in the dark had been made at Elea- 
nor. It was not possible that Sally knew the 
real circumstances; but with the quick insight 
of her sex, she had shrewdly guessed that her 
pet had met with defeat to his hopes at Meadow- 
land, and unjustly blamed Eleanor for the 
whole trouble. 

Don’t speak that way about Miss Eleanor,” 
Arthur answered after his first surprise had 
passed. She is the loveliest young lady in 
the world, and would not hurt a fly, much less 
a friend. She is going to marry young Mr. 
Thompson, and we must all say ^ God bless 
her, and make her happy-’ I can’t tell you, 
for you seem to know already, that I love her 
and would like to marry her. I never told her, 
for I saw she cared for some one else ; and now 
Aunt Sally, you must really go back to bed, 
for it is morning.” 


88 A Waiting Race. 

I ain’t gwine to stir a step, Marster 
Arthur/’ Sally retorted, less you promise me 
you’ll go right smack to bed yo’self. Your ma 
would be in a putty way ef she could see you 
with them owl eyes ! ” 

x^rthur laughed again, and assuring Sally 
that he would lie down and take a good rest; 
and patting the old black hand affectionately, 
he half pushed, half led her from the room. 
She went away with reluctant step, all the time 
muttering imprecations against Eleanor, and 
dark, mysterious utterances aimed against the 
house of MacDonald; her bent old back, even, 
expressing displeasure in every line, and the 
mobile face scowling itself into a thousand 
wrinkles. 


A Waiting Race. 


89 


CHAPTEK XIII. 

. The heart of Autumn must have broken here, 

And poured its treasures out upon the leaves. . . .* 

Three montlis had passed, since the an- 
nouncement of Eleanor MacDonald’s engage- 
ment to Alec Thompson ; and in the third week 
of October after a simple wedding and short 
bridal tonr, the yonng couple returned to 
Meadowland where the General warmly wel- 
comed them. The glory of the rich autumn 
foliage was at its full height, and from the 
brow of the hill the flaming maple trees seemed 
to warm the landscape into a burnished gold. 
The crispness of the country air made the blood 
tingle in Eleanor’s cheeks ; and she looked par- 
ticularly girlish and sweet, as she jumped 
quickly from the carriage and fairly rushed 
into her father’s arms. 

The husband pattered along meekly behind, 
carrying his innumerable canes and umbrellas, 


go 


A Waiting Race. 


which were far too precious to trust to a serv- 
ant; and giving vent to a series of ejaculations 
and mild, inconsequent remarks upon every- 
thing in general, and nothing in particular. 
He greeted the General with amiable bonhomie, 
and proceeded to hop about and twitter out small 
nothings ; looking not unlike an animated 
canary bird. His happiness in having won 

the sweetest, prettiest girl in Virginia,” as 
Mrs. Leighton had affectionately called Elea- 
nor, showed itself in a decided awakening of his 
small energies. The General was amused at 
the change, after having grown accustomed to 
the little man’s lethargy through the summer; 
and wondered if he would return to his former 
manner when the novelty of matrimony had 
worn off. 

Eleanor, meanwhile, had her arm through 
her father’s and was walking over the dear home 
that she had left three weeks earlier ; her heart 
very full to realize that its walls, hallowed by 
tenderest memories, were still to shelter her as 
a married woman. 

A week before the great event General Mac- 
Donald had called Alec Thompson aside and 
had told him that after the wedding journey was 


91 


A Waiting Race. 

over lie hoped Eleanor would return to Meadow- 
land for several weeks, at least, until their 
plans for a permanent home were decided on. 
In the course of the conversation the natural 
reluctance of a father to give up an only child 
was so evident, even to the obtuse Thompson, 
that at last he turned to the General and ex- 
claimed: Well, by jingo, I don’t believe you 
want her to leave you at all ! Can’t blame you, 
you know. Would feel the same way myself. 
Very natural, very natural; especially about 
such a girl as Eleanor, for she’s a daisy. Gen- 
eral, and there’s no mistake about that ! ” 

So it was agreed that Meadowland should 
continue to be graced by Eleanor’s charms, and 
that the General should not be left to a lonely 
existence in consequence of her marriage. 

Why, you dear father,” she had said more 
than once, I would not be willing to leave 
you alone; and it is far easier for us to come 
to you, having no home yet, than for you to de- 
sert dear Meadowland and come to us.” 

This practical view of the matter satisfied 
the General ; and he saw that his daughter loved 
both him and the home so well that she was not 
sighing for a change to fresh pastures, nor sac- 


92 A Waiting Race. 

rificing herself simply to gratify his fatherly 
whims. 

During the week after her return she had 
settled back into her old life, taking up its 
threads as naturally as though she had never 
gone away, and bringing such cheer to every 
one around her that poor Arthur, cut off from 
her society, and only hearing of her from his 
mother, groaned in spirit. Blessing she is, 
God made her so; and deeds of week-day holi- 
ness fall from her noiseless as the snow; nor 
hath she ever chance to know that ought were 
easier than to bless,’’ he quoted to himself one 
morning, after a glowing account Mrs. Leigh- 
ton had given of Eleanor’s dinner to sixty of 
the poor in her immediate neighborhood. 

The days were filled with pleasure for the 
young wife, who, as a rich woman, not only en- 
tertained royally all her friends with the hos- 
pitality she had always been accustomed to in a 
simpler form, but found ample time for wise 
and helpful charities among the mountaineers. 
She was soon greatly beloved by many a poor 
soul, who had known her but slightly as she 
developed into womanhood on her father’s 
place. Day by day her sweet face became 


93 


A Waiting Race. 

dearer as the refined features grew into the 
hearts of those who came to her with their 
troubles; and no tale of suffering was ever ne- 
glected. 

But with characteristic moderation, and the 
decision of will that had always made her at- 
tractive, she regulated her life so systema,ti- 
cally that only a given number of hours were 
dedicated to her charitable work. I love to 
give and make people happy,’’ she would say; 

but I think a life is always narrow that has 
only one interest. Several hours of each day I 
owe to my husband ; certain others to my home 
duties and my dear old father; and with my 
music and reading I cannot find time for more 
than a moderate amount of philanthropic 
work.” 

Arthur Leighton had gone away on some 
pretext of business before Eleanor’s wedding, 
and on his return had, of course, avoided, as 
far as possible, the entertainments at Meadow- 
land. Mrs. Leighton, who was in her son’s con- 
fidence, suffered keenly to see how dark the 
shadows had grown under Arthur’s eyes, and 
though he laughingly protested against being 


94 A Waiting Race. 

coddled, she told her husband again and again 
that their son W'as certainly growing thin. 

The tender mother heart had many a pang 
in those days that was borne in silence, but 
which left its mark, as all real pain must. It 
had been her dream that Elea,nor should marry 
Arthur, and the tie between the two women had 
grown steadily stronger as Eleanor developed 
from an affectionate, impulsive child into a 
lovely young girl with a deep and passionate 
nature. Th*e Leightons had lost their only 
daughter, by accidental drowning, at the age 
of sixteen, just when the tender hud was un- 
folding; and this was the sorrow that seemed 
to bring Mrs-. Leighton in such close touch wuth 
Eleanor. If only this girl could become my 
daughter,’’ the colder woman thought, though 
she could not take dear Margaret’*s place, yet 
she would help to fill the emptiness and cheer 
the loneliness.” 

And so, in his bitter disappointment, Arthur 
was not alone, and the common sorrow made 
his own lot seem lighter as the days passed in 
the sympathetic society of his mother. Gen- 
eral MacDonald, with genuine tact and good 
feeling, left the newly-married pair very much 


95 


A Waiting Race. 

to themselves for a month after their return, 
often driving over to Woodlawn to see Arthur, 
in those bright fall days when it seemed a sin 
to sit in the house. The latter felt greatly flat- 
tered at this attention and strove in every way to 
arouse himself to the full enjoyment of those 
discussions of books, politics or travel that had 
been such a source of pleasure to him only a 
short time earlier. 

A dull weight seemed to be on his brain, and 
a heavier one still at his heart ; hut his natural 
fine feeling and breeding enabled him to play 
the part of host to perfection, and the old Gen- 
eral would go away well satisfied with his visit. 
In truth, Arthur did not realize until long af- 
terwards that these efforts of will, on his part, 
were very good for him. Triction at that par- 
ticular time with a mind so sound and clear as 
that of the General, and a nature so wholesome, 
prevented Arthur from growing morbid in his 
sorrow and daily aroused him to greater 
strength of purpose. 


A Waiting Race. 


96 


CHAPTER XIV. 

He was not all unhappy. His resolve 
Upboro him, and firm faith, and evermore 
Prayer from a living source within the will. . . , 

Tennyson. 

One morning early in Xovember, when the 
first balmy breath of Indian summer was cov- 
ering the hills with a bluish haze, and Xature 
seemed at peace with all her children, Arthur 
Leighton started off for a walk in the woods. 

Directly back of Woodlawn there was a pic- 
turesque clump of trees and an inviting stretch 
of ground that frequently tempted young peo- 
ple on picnics bent. Here Eleanor often had 
gone during her girlhood with Mrs. Leighton 
to gather baskets of wild ferns ; and even with 
Arthur alone occasionally, unromantic and 
prosaic as their early engagement had been. 
Arthur had been studying quite hard since the 
return of the young couple to Meadowland, 
which he gave to Alec Thompson on every 


97 


A Waiting Race. 

occasion as an excuse for not calling oftener. 
The effort to keep up and to hide his pain, 
coupled with persistent brainwork and restless 
nights, had begun to affect to some extent his 
fine constitution. 

I^ow, as he sauntered along in the quiet little 
wood, the brown, dry leaves rustling under his 
feet, and the fallen twigs cracking under his 
step, he renewed all the resolutions of the past 
three months. He saw that there would have 
to be some let up from the monotonous routine 
that he had forced himself into, and he decided 
to live more in the open air and give up for a 
little while, at least, the most technical of his 
studies. He would take his mother driving 
oftener, and he would indulge more frequently 
in long rambles over the hills, and this out-door 
exercise would surely bring back lost muscle 
and vim. 

He could go on later with his law course, 
and would make up for lost time in the long 
winter evenings, when Hature was more for- 
bidding and her sweets carefully stowed away 
till another spring. Ah, yes, he would be a 
man, he would be true to those vows, made on 
his knees that night that Aunt Sally had come 
7 


98 A Waiting Race. 

to him. To be sure the real incentive to work 
was gone, and his dear love was lost to him 
forever, but there remained his affection for 
and duty to his mother, and her purity and 
sweet refinement were a constant source of 
pleasure to him in the old home. He saw how 
much he had to be grateful for, even now, and 
his heart thrilled with tenderness, though 
thoughts of Eleanor made his face flush quickly 
and grow pale again. 

Suddenly he heard a plaintive little sound, 
and looking back he saw a tiny kitten, which 
was evidently making a desperate effort to fol- 
low him. Hot only was the little creature very 
young, but Arthur noticed that one foot had 
apparently been hurt on the way. Without a 
moment’s hesitation he retraced his steps, and 
kneeling down caught up the unfortunate ani- 
mal. Gently and tenderly he folded it closely 
to him, the dumb creature nestling prettily in 
his strong arms; and, too exhausted to attempt 
to escape, it allowed its friend to examine the 
wounded foot. 

Arthur was no doctor, but a natural pity and 
sympathy for all God’s creatures frequently 
taught him just what to do at a critical moment. 


A Waiting Race. 


99 


The kitten had severely cut the tender little 
foot on a sharp stone, and it would he necessary 
to carry his pet to a neighboring farmhouse for 
water to bathe the wound. 

So intent was he upon his examination that 
he had not beard a light footfall coming closer 
and closer at his back, and before he could col- 
lect his senses, or prepare himself for an inter- 
view with Eleanor, she had come up to him. 
She, too, had come to the woods at this early 
hour to be alone with hlature, in the hope of 
meeting no one, and it was with genuine sur- 
prise that she greeted Arthur. 

He rose instantly from his stooping position, 
and with a nervous, flushed face looked her full 
in the eyes. She was charmingly dressed in a be- 
coming pink morning costume, with a large pic- 
ture hat that exactly harmonized with the deli- 
cate pink in her cheeks, and the dark, curly hair 
blew softly around her brow and neck. Her 
ungloved hands were filled with wild plants and 
autumn leaves, and Arthur felt that every de- 
tail of dress and figure was stamping itself on 
his brain, to come back again and again when 
he should be left alone. 

She was the first to speak, for with quick wo- 


LofO. 


100 


A Waiting Race. 

manly instinct she realized what this meeting 
must mean to him. Why, Arthur ! I had no 
idea I would meet any one here this morning, for 
we have not yet breakfasted. How curious that 
you should he here, too ! And have you become 

0 champion of cats since I last saw you ? ” 
Eleanor was looking at Arthur with a little 

smile, in which there was not the faintest trace 
of vanity, and was so bewitching that the poor 
fellow looked quickly down at the kitten again. 
The animal was becoming restless and gave 
short, pathetic little wails from time to time. 
Arthur saw that here was his opportunity for 
escape, and in a flash decided what to do. I 
was walking through the wood simply for exer- 
cise, and this poor little creature tried to catch 
up with me,’’ he said quickly. Evidently he 
has had an accident of some kind and has 
strayed away from the mother. Just as you ap- 
peared I was busy examining the wound, and 
as there is no brook near here I shall have to 
carry my 'protege to some kind woman at one 
of the farmhouses. I am too big and rough, 

1 fear, to do much for a kitten, but no one could 
have resisted this little sufferer, and I hope to 
get relief for it.” 


lOI 


A Waiting Race. 

Eleanor was interested immediately, and, re- 
lieved that the conversation had not taken a 
personal tone, she came closer to Arthur and 
looked critically at the animal. Poor, dear 
little thing,” she said, a kitten always appeals 
to me as the most pitiful little creature in the 
world. You must let me come with you to 
old Mrs. Brown’s cottage, and there I will hind 
up the wound and get the good old woman to 
care for the little unfortunate until we can 
find out where it belongs.” 

Arthur thanked her, and as the walk to Mrs. 
Brown’s was quite short he saw that there would 
he no need, once there, for him to remain until 
Eleanor had finished her work. In truth, so 
disturbing had been this glimpse of her fresh, 
lovely face that it seemed to the earnest young 
man as though all his struggle with self had 
been for naught. He longed to get away alone 
again and tear out from his heart that dear 
image that had no right there. Never by look 
or word should she guess what he felt; and, 
after a time, he thought, when two or three 
years had passed, he would have learned to 
school himself to the situation and would be 
her friend. It was all too new now, though. 


102 A Waiting Race. 

and the wound at his heart bled freshly every 
time he saw her. 

He walked on hy her side, and presently 
Eleanor looked timidly up from under the 
brim of her dainty hat. Ignoring his silence 
she began talking of the w^oods, the ferns, the 
lovely weather, going from one subject to an- 
other with such naturalness and ease that Ar- 
thur blessed her in his heart, and soon losing 
the constraint of manner that had been so pain- 
ful at first he successfully carried on the con- 
versation for the next ten minutes, tiding over 
the awkward rencontre to the satisfaction of both 
Eleanor and himself. She had, of course, no- 
ticed how thin and different he looked ; but her 
delicacy forbade her mentioning it, while her 
sensitive heart was pained at the thought that 
she had somehow, in some way, been the cause 
of his suffering. 

At a turn of a few yards from the wood they 
had just left, Mrs. Brown’s cottage came into 
view, and Arthur stopped perfectly still and 
laid a hajnd on the kitten. You are so close 
now to the house that I suggest you give me 
your ferns to leave at Meadowland^ and let me 
turn over this little creature to your tender 


103 


A Waiting Race. 

mercies/’ lie said to Eleanor, for I am sure 
I shall be only in the way if I stay any longer.” 

She gave him her hand with a simple dig- 
nity, and with a direct look from her lovely 
brown eyes that seemed to Arthur to pierce his 
soul like an arrow, she thanked him and walked 
on. 

His last view of her was one never to be for- 
gotten, he thought — the dark head bending low 
over the tiny kitten, the sweet face, softening 
in every line as she gently pillowed the little 
creature in her bosom, and one stray curl kiss- 
ing her round cheek as the morning breeze 
sprang up suddenly and played with her hair. 
Adieu, to you, dear heart,” he whispered, 
adieu to love, to hope, to everything.” 


104 


\ Waiting Race. 


CHAPTER XV. 


It is the little rift within the lute ; 

That by and by will make the music mute, 

And ever widening slowly silence all. 

Tennyson. 

The spruce little Thompson was lazily sun- 
ning himself on the comfortable piazza of 
Meadowlandj his whole person expressing the 
same contentment that a purring cat does 
stretched out on a warm hearth-rug. 

Breakfast was only just over, at half-past 
ten o’clock, and Eleanor had left her husband 
to attend to soifie household duty that she was 
eager to have behind her on account of the late- 
ness of the hour. It had been her special wish 
that the eight o’clock breakfast, which she and 
her father always took together, should con- 
tinue after her marriage, thus giving her ample 
time for her work during the forenoon. 

But as it was not within the range of possi- 
bilities to get the indolent Alec out of bed be- 


A Waiting Race. 105 

fore the earth was well aired arid sunned,” as 
he expressed it, Eleanor abandoned the idea of 
having an early morning meal. True the amiable 
little husband was quite content to have his own 
breakfast served separately, after the General 
and Eleanor had finished, but this the latter 
refused to do. She conceived it to be her duty 
to conform her life, as far as possible to suit 
her husband’s tastes, rightly judging that in 
such simple matters she could readily make a 
sacrifice of her own wishes. 

The General, who could not change the habit 
of a lifetime, enjoyed an early cup of coffee and 
crackers with his daughter, and this was to her 
one of the sweetest periods of the whole twenty- 
four hours. She was as unselfish in caring for 
his comfort as for that of her husband, and with 
infinite tact never made the older man feel that 
in any respect she had changed in herself with 
the changing of her name. 

!N^ow, as she went from one duty to another, 
she remembered suddenly that it was the hour 
set aside for reading with her father, after 
which she and Alec invariably played on the 
piano together. As she passed her husband on 
the piazza for the first time a shade of annoy- 


io6 


A Waiting Race. 


ance and irritation were noticeable on her 
hitherto serene face. He looked so utterly in- 
different to everything around him, and the 
mental resources which made her life so happy 
were 'so meaningless to him that in a flash a 
comparison presented itself to her. She went 
up to him, however, and touching him lightly 
on the shoulder, said : Alec, do come and join 
father and me this morning at our reading.’’ 

With a sleepy yavm, her husband looked up 
and smiled a smile of amiable vacuity. By 
George, Eleanor, it’s asking too much of a man 
this early in the day, to buckle down to hard 
thinking. You and the General beat me all to 
pieces at that sort of thing. I never could take 
in that style of reading, any way; and Drum- 
mond is too deep for me, I must admit.’' 

A slight contemptuous curl of the lip was 
Eleanor’s only answer, and Alec continued : 

Why don't you read some light novel by the 
^ Duchess ’ ? I read one once, and I could really 
stand that for about half an hour. But you 
would soon finish me if you compelled me to 
grapple with anything deep.” Eleanor was 
conscious of such a mixture of amusement and 
annoyance that she was on the point of turning 


A Waiting Race. 107 

away with some commonplace rejoinder when 
her husband caught sight of her face. 

Jumping up quickly he caught her affection- 
ately by the arm, exclaiming : Don’t mind 
me, dear old girl ! You know I didn’t mean to 
offend you, and I never expect to compare to 
you in any way. You’re all right just as you 
are, and when you get done with your father 
let me know and we’ll have some of those de- 
licious Saran polonaises.” Eleanor smiled 
and, saying something that was as non-com- 
mittal as possible, left the partner of her joys 
and sorrows to doze comfortably for the next 
hour in undisturbed bliss. 

The General noticed that she was more 
distraite than usual, and Eleanor herself was 
conscious of a certain disappointment and cha- 
grin that she could not exactly put into words, 
but which made that day a little different from 
other days. 

Why had it never occurred to her, before 
marriage, to sound Alec on the subject of books ? 
She was too busy playing on the piano with 
him, driving, riding, accepting his pretty gifts 
and enjoying the delights of summer to seri- 
ously imagine what a life would be to her with 


io8 A Waiting Race. 

no intellectual companion. Having been bred 
in a bookish atmosphere, it was as natural to 
her to read as to breathe, and it never occurred 
to her that any human being could live and be 
happy without feeding the mind as well as the 
body. 

Of all the men and women who come to the 
altar to take their vows for better or for worse, 
at least one-half that number are separated 
from each other by a difference of taste, and 
more than one-third are actively unhappy 
through an inability to read character. It is 
not in those cases that either the man or woman 
is necessarily full of faults, but simply that 
what faults they have are not understood be- 
fore marriage. Consequently there is no at- 
tempt made by either person to adapt himself 
or herself to the existing conditions, and the re- 
sults to happiness are, of course, fatal. 

Eleanor would have denied indignantly that 
the first cloud had touched the horizon of her 
married life, through her loyalty to the hus- 
band who loved her so well, yet it was evident 
that the simple incident, of the morning had 
made more impression on her than on him. 

In the afternoon he was quick to propose a 


A Waiting Race. 109 

drive, and asked for the light buggy, so that 
their pleasure should be a deux, instead of in 
the society of the General , who frequently went 
with the young couple on expeditions into the 
next county. The day was exquisite, and the 
dreamy melancholy that seemed to be in the 
air exactly corresponded to Eleanor^s mood as 
she lightly stepped into the pretty vehicle that 
her husband had given her as a special present 
on their return to Meadowland. 

Alec drove well and was thoroughly accus- 
tomed to horses, but was feckless to a danger- 
ous degree, and the General often warned him 
against Prince,’^ his favorite of all the beau- 
tiful horses in his stables. This was not alto- 
gether a hopeless brute, but was certainly far 
from being a safe animal for riding and driv- 
ing. The solicitous father extracted a promise 
from Eleanor that she would have nothing to 
do with him ; and Alec substituted, for her per- 
sonal use, a pretty black horse called Gipsy.” 

Eleanor was so well accustomed to his ways 
that it never occurred to her that an occasional 
habit of shying would bring trouble of any 
kind. He seemed on this day, however, to be 
a little more restive than usual, and no sooner 


no 


A Waiting Race. 

had he gotten well out into the country than he 
began to prick up his ears, arch his head and 
prepare himself for some fresh caper. At a 
turn in the road a large white piece of paper 
blew suddenly into Gipsy’s path, and at the same 
moment another horse and buggy came swiftly 
around the corner. 

Mrs. Leighton and Arthur were just return- 
ing from a charming drive, and were so en- 
grossed in conversation that in a twinkling there 
would probably have been a disastrous colli- 
sion of the two vehicles had not chance so or- 
dered it that the offending paper almost blew 
into Arthur’s carriage. This was a choice of 
evils, as it happened that the horse, shying in 
the opposite direction from the paper, had no 
room in which to effect a sudden spring, and 
before Alec Thompson could rein in the fright- 
ened animal he had dashed down a steep em- 
bankment, upsetting the light carriage and land- 
ing both of its occupants on the ground. 

In a trice Arthur had stopped his own horse, 
and, dropping lightly from the buggy in which 
his mother was sitting, he ran to Eleanor’s help. 
His heart was beating furiously, and his anx- 
iety so intense that by the time he reached her 


Ill 


A Waiting Race. 

side lie could scarcely speak. To his relief, 
however, she was trying to rise unassisted, and 
the fall had evidently but bruised and shaken 
her. Fortunately the carriage was very low, 
and both she and her husband had simply rolled 
out, so that in a few moments Arthur had 
helped the limp young couple to their feet, and 
the explanations and laughter that followed re- 
lieved both Arthur and Eleanor of their em- 
barrassment. 

I am glad to feel that I could be of any 
use,’’ he said with a forced smile in answer to 
Eleanor’s thanks, and, looking at the dusty 
Thompson, who was wofully inspecting his 
clothes, especially as my own accident, long 
ago, might have ended fatally but for the timely 
help I received.” 

ETonsense, my dear Leighton, I did noth- 
ing at all, and any one else would have 
behaved the same way for a poor devil try- 
ing to climb a Swiss mountain, you know. 
And now, by jingo, I hope you’ll come often 
to Meadowland,” the little man went, on, re- 
gardless of Arthur’s sudden blush. We shall 
always be more than glad to see you,” he cruelly 


IT2 


A Waiting Race. 

persisted, and Eleanor and tlie General will 
second my invitation.’^ 

With tactless emphasis upon the two names, 
and much empressement at parting, he held out 
his hand for Arthur to shake, leaving the latter 
inwardly smarting with pain and chafing over 
the perversity of Fate which threw him in the 
society of the woman he loved against his will. 


A Waiting Race. 


113 


CHAPTER XVI. 

The day was such a day 

As Florence owes the sun. The sky above, 

Its weight upon the mountains seemed to lay 
And palpitate in glory, like a dove 

Who has flown too fast, full-hearted ! 

Mrs. Browning. 

The sunlight of Italy is certainly different 
from that of America, and has a golden quality 
in it that harmonizes with the deeper blue of 
the skies. 

So thought Eleanor, at least, as her eyes 
rested on the lovely, fertile hills and the pic- 
turesque vineyards and gardens that surround 
Florence, making of it a genuine feast for those 
who travel to see something. She had decided 
that immediately after the Christmas holidays 
were over she would induce her husband to go 
abroad for at least six months arid leave 
Meadowland and her father for a time — thus 
8 


1 14 A Waiting Race. 

bringing home refreshed and strengthened ener- 
gies for the work that lay before her. 

Of course the immediate reason for her de- 
cision was that Arthur Leighton was settled at 
Woodlawn with his parents, and after his law 
course was over he intended to practise in his 
own town. He had behaved with the utmost 
good feeling and good breeding ever since her 
marriage, and had carefully avoided her as far 
as possible, only to have a series of trying coin- 
cidences' thrust themselves upon him that made 
the situation intolerable for him, and trying, to 
say the least, for her. 

There was nothing to do but to put the ocean 
between them, and Eleanor wished in her heart 
of hearts that when she returned she would find 
Arthur absorbed, to the exclusion of everything 
else, in his work, or else interested in some 
sweet girl who had the power to make him 
happy. There was not a selfish or vain thought 
in her mind, and her purity of purpose and 
loyalty to her husband made her deeply regret 
that Arthur was no longer her friend, in the 
ordinary sense of the word. 

A tinge of something like pain oppressed her, 
before leaving home, to realize that to explain 


A Waiting Race. 115 

all this to- Alec Thompson would he worse than 
useless, for he had neither the acumen to per- 
ceive that Arthur Leighton was in love with 
his wife, nor the delicacy to sympathize with 
the embarrassing condition of affairs that con- 
fronted Eleanor at every turn. Before her 
marriage she had told Alec the whole story of 
her engagement to Arthur, and of his perfect 
approval of her actions ; and .the satisfied 
Thompson had settled down into a comfortable 
conviction that he had never had a rival. 

Eleanor felt that as long as Arthur had not 
addressed her, after his change of feeling, she 
had no duty to discharge towards her fiance, in 
hinting that another man was in love with her 
— especially as the accepted lover had had every 
opportunity to see her in her own home thrown 
with both men in the most natural way in the 
world. 

The gradual realization after her marriage, 
however, that her husband was 'densely in- 
sensible to a something in her life, which, 
though not tangible, was painful, caused the 
second cloud that dimmed the brightness of 
her young wifehood. 

It was not essential to her happiness, she 


ii6 A Waiting Race. 

reasoned, that he should know every little worry 
and every thought, yet, inconsistently enough, 
after trying to excuse herself for a lack of 
frankness and excuse him for needing to have 
an explanation given of so simple a matter, she 
was conscious of a regret somewhere. It would 
have been more ideal if he had entered into 
her thoughts and feelings through that sensi- 
tive affinity which is so sweet to such natures 
as Eleanor^s. After all, Alec was her own gen- 
erous and affectionate husband, and was really 
trying to make her happy, though it was an im- 
possibility for her to draw a diagram, meta- 
phorically, in order to show him her feelings. 

Though they had taken each other for life, 
there was a wide difference in their point of 
view, and as the days passed and the delights 
of an Italian winter made Eleanor’s beautiful 
eyes glow with a deeper intelligence the differ- 
ence could not be noticeably wider. She had 
found that Alec took no notes on travel, had 
never read George Eliot’s incomparable picture 
of Savonarola and Elorentine life, Romola,’’ 
cared only to go abroad in order to satisfy his 
curiosity in some trivial matters that would only 
appeal to the shallow-brained, and finally, that 


A Waiting Race. 117 

outside of giving her a good time/’ there was 
nothing (for him) to be derived from their stay 
in Europe. 

hTot so with her, however. Day after day she 
accomplished a certain amount of sight-seeing 
with the same admirable precision and method 
that she had shown in the gradual acquirement 
of accomplishments in her own home. 

The Palazzo Pitti, with its superb gallery of 
paintings: the Academy of Fine Arts; the 
Church of San Lorenzo, where Michael Angelo 
left two of his greatest works in the statues of 
Julian and Lorenzo de Medici; the peerless 
Cathedral, wLose cupola, designed by Brunnel- 
leschi, was so admired by Angelo that it served 
as a model for that of St. Peter’s, at Pome — 
all were visited in turn. 

As a rich woman with unlimited time she 
persuaded the tractable Alec to rent a charming 
villa in the suburbs of Florence, and once in- 
stalled she managed to divide her hours between 
newly-made acquaintances, who were indefati- 
gable sight-seers, and her husband, whose chief 
pleasure, everywhere, was riding and driving. 
One of his best traits was his generosity of feel- 
ing, which prevented petty jealousy. He was 


ii8 A Waiting Race. 

more than willing to find his lovely young wife 
encircled by admiring friends, and their villa 
became the rendezvous of the most cultivated 
and charming people in Florence, both Eng- 
lish and American. 

Eleanor seemed to expand intellectually more • 
and more, and the healthful winter climate kept 
the same roses in her cheeks that bloomed there 
as a little girl in her home in Virginia. It was 
to that home and her dear old father that her 
thoughts turned constantly; for, enjoy as she 
might the change of scene and thought that her 
travels brought, her heart was entirely un- 
changed, and she was as unspoiled now as if 
she had remained Eleanor MacDonald of 
Meadowland. Indeed, she received an account 
every month from Mrs. Leighton about her 
charities, that good woman having offered to 
give out money and clothing as practically as 
she could to the poor during Eleanor’s absence. 

To meet their demands, and to gratify his 
wife, Alec Thompson had placed a con- 
siderable sum in bank at Mrs. Leighton’s dis- 
posal, and the latter enjoyed herself also in 
another way during that winter which proved to 
be extremely rigorous in northern Virginia. 


A Waiting Race. 119 

With characteristic- indolence Alec had said to 
Eleanor: l^ow remember, old girl, yon can 

have a nice round sum for all your poor Tom- 
mies and Johnnies; only don’t bother me about 
them after you get the money. I don’t want to 
hear any of their tales of woe, for, by George, 
it’s too dismal, you know ! ” Eleanor had 
laughed in spite of herself, though in reality 
she disapproved so wholly of this form of com- 
fortable selfishness that she had been tempted 
more than once to make some rather tart re- 
joinder. 

It was difficult, too, for her to remember to 
keep all that part of her life to herself, and she 
deemed it unreasonable of a man who had 
nothing to do except to open his heart and loosen 
his purse-strings to object to hearing the work- 
ings of his charity. We give as freely by 
sympathy and love in this world, my dear 
Alec,” she had said one day to him, as we do 
with money. Do you remember the Knight of 
the Holy Grail, who tossed a coin contemptu- 
ously in the dust to the poor leper ? Lowell de- 
scribed it so beautifully in his poem, ^ The Vi- 
sion of Sir Launfal.’ ” 

I don’t know anything about Sir Launfal, 


120 


A Waiting Race, 

nor the leper, dnckj darling, and I don’t care 
for your poets like Lowell, any way. They 
don’t know a good suit of clothes when they 
see it, nor a thorough-bred horse. They spend 
all their time writing about a lot of fal-lal non- 
sense, like trees, and bees and seas, and then try 
to make them rhyme with skies, and flies and 
dies. And now, let’s have some music, little 
girl, and then a nice drive, and we won’t quar- 
rel about poetry or poor people either.” 

With imperturbable good humor in his blue 
eyes, and an affectionate kiss on his wife’s round 
cheek, this hopeless dilettante would summarily 
dismiss the subject for that day at least, and 
Eleanor would be forced to yield the point— 
though her opinions remained unchanged. 


Waiting Race. 


I2I 


CHAPTER XYIL 

, , . In spots like these it is we prize 

Our memory, feel that she hath eyes. . . . 

Wordsworth. 

The six montlis of European life for the 
Thompson couple, from January to July, had 
been extended to eight, and in May, the days 
becoming a little too warm for comfort, it was 
decided that the villa had better be given up. 
Eleanor was quite willing to go to Germany to 
enjoy the baths, open-air concerts, walks and 
drives, before Alec took her to his old haunts 
in Switzerland. She often longed for her father 
to enjoy the delights of travel with her, and 
missed his sympathetic, intellectual companion- 
ship more and more, as that first dissatisfaction 
over her husband’s shallow-headedness grew into 
a distinct and painful sense of something lack- 
ing to her happiness. 

The subject of books was entirely dropped. 


122 


A Waiting Race. 


for Eleanor had a horror of nagging; and as 
Alec had already admitted that he did not read, 
she never again alluded to his singular lack of 
taste. Her love of philanthropic work had been 
disposed of, as far as Alec was concerned, in 
the conversation already recorded, and on all 
subjects like pictures and other works of art 
he showed as profound an ignorance as on 
hooks. In short, he had the physical inactivity 
of a snail, about as much imagination as a tur- 
nip, and the soul of a grub-worm. But his 
heart was in the right place, and his supply of 
the milk of human kindness was better than the 
average. As long as nothing seriously inter- 
fered with his creature comforts he was quite 
willing to give liberally of his ample means, 
and such attentions as he had shown to Arthur 
Leighton were due .to a genuine admiration for 
a man whom he recognized as his superior. 

The latter, however, was not a person whom 
Eleanor cared to discuss, and with distinct 
adroitness she managed to stay clear of this 
subject to a great extent by a few non-committal 
remarks that were not of a character to excite 
suspicion, and yet that quietly disposed of the 
matter at hand. 


123 


A Waiting Race. 

Mrs. LeigHton had rarely alluded to her son 
in the letters she had sent in regard to busi- 
ness mutters, but General MacDonald generally 
added a few extra lines to the weekly budget 
to say that he had spent a pleasant evening at 
Woodlawn, or that Arthur had driven over to 
Meadowland with a new book for him to read. 
The considerate old father tried in every way to 
make Eleanor feel comfortable in regard to her 
long stay abroad, for, as an unselfish parent, he 
delighted in her advantages and pleasures, and 
never once hinted at his own loneliness in the 
long months that followed her departure. 

Eleanor, however, seemed to read between the 
lines occasionally, and one day she told her 
husband that in spite of all her enjoyment 
she greatly missed her father. You know, 
Alec,’’ she said, this is my first real separation 
from him. I was educated entirely at home, 
and as I lived in the country I had no burning 
intimacies or bosom girl friends even. I am 
afraid you think me silly sometimes, but I get 
very homesick as soon as I see father’s letters 
from Virginia. 

Alec chucked his wife under the chin and 
smiled blandly. Do you want to go home next 


124 A Waiting Race. 

week, little girl ? I am sure I don’t mind ! It’s 
quite as comfortable in Virginia as here, and 
I’m ready to go whenever you say the word.” 

Eleanor laughed softly, half to herself, be- 
fore answering, and then said : I think we 
had better leave Switzerland by the first of 
September, for a month at Bale will be long 
enough. You and I have both had our musi- 
cal treat in Dresden, Frankfort and Baden- 
Baden, and I shall never forget it. You are a 
good husband to indulge me so much, Alec, and 
I am enthusiastic over our trip. If I were not 
married, and father were here with me, I would 
want to stay two years in Germany for the 
music alone, outside of all the art wonders, the 
mysterious delicious Black Forest, the lovely 
drives and walks, and a thousand other de- 
lights.” 

Then checking herself, suddenly, after a 
glance at the listless expression of her husband, 
she added, with a little sigh : You don’t seem 
to share my enthusiasm, my dear; but I must 
say what I think sometimes, for I have no one 
else to talk to. Germany is the land of poetry 
amd music, in my opinion, though many have 


A Waiting Race. 125 

said Italy. We have now seen both, and some- 
how, in spits of all the beauties of Florence, my 
affections seem to go out to Germany. In my 
mind are running scraps of Heine’s poems, and 
in my heart and soul are sounding those grand 
choruses of Handel’s oratorios, that seem to me 
to rise to the very throne of Heaven. Oh, Alec, 
there you must feel with me,” she cried out 
suddenly, ‘‘ for you, too, love music ! ” 

At the mention of Heine the habitually 
placid, amiable expression on Alec’s regular 
features deepened into one of hopeless stupid- 
ity, and Eleanor regretted having given way to 
her enthusiasm. But in another moment her 
allusions to Handel stirred up the sluggish 
stream of his thoughts, and Alec answered: 

Handel’s a daisy, any way, little girl. I can’t 
quite follow you in your high-flown notions 
about Heaven. Hope the old fellow got there, 
a(nd suppose he had about as good a chance as 
any of us. His music is fine, and I’d like to 
hear a good oratorio once a week ! ” 

This speech being so much longer than usual 
it was evident that Alec had no intention of 
wasting his breath for the rest of the day, and 


126 


A Waiting Race. 


Eleanor, finding that in answer to her com- 
ments on Germany and the Germans she received 
nothing bnt monosyllabic replies, or short 
grunts, buried herself in an agreeable book in 
self-defense. 


A Waiting Race. 


127 


CHAPTER XYIII. 

Life, I know not what thou art, 

But know that thou and I must part. . . . 

Barbour. 

General MacDonald and Arthur Leighton 
had just parted on the steps of Woodlawn, after 
two hours of congenial companionship^ and 
quite frankly the subject of Eleanor’s Euro- 
pean stay had come up for discussion. 

The old father seemed to Arthur to have aged 
a little in the months of separation from his 
daughter, as men in the sixties frequently do 
under some disappointment or worry that would 
not quickly aifect a younger man. Although 
Eleanor had sent delightful, chatty letters, full 
of glowing descriptions of sight-seeing, there 
seemed occasionally a faint note of sadness in 
her words, so unlike her former self, that the 
tender-hearted father was conscious of unrest. 

He was not long finding out that she was 


128 A Waiting Race. 

homesick, and he was too intelligent not to 
conjecture (in spite of Eleanor’s silence on that 
subject), that Alec Thompson was no compan- 
ion for a cultivated, ambitious young wife who 
had gone abroad to improve herself. The Gen- 
eral opened each letter with the hope that she 
spent a good part of her time in playing on the 
piano for and with her husband, besides going 
to concerts, as originally be felt that their mu- 
tual love for music would be a distinct bond. 

Yet, even in this, Eleanor was doomed to 
disappointment, for the indifferent Alec was 
never willing to really study music, and it was 
not possible for her always to be ready to give 
up her mornings to dabbling in her art. She 
was ready to come home, she wrote, and now 
that the time was fixed the General felt so warm 
a thrill of emotion and delight that the mem- 
ory of the weary months without her almost 
faded away. Many were his injunctions to the 
old housekeeper to be in readiness for the young 
mistress’s return, and Mrs. Leighton’s dainty 
fingers were pressed into service to decorate 
Meadowland with the finest of the early fall 
plants in honor of the young couple. She mar- 
veled often at the spontaneous manner in which 


129 


A Waiting Race. 

the devoted father warmed up to anything that 
was connected with Eleanor, and having only 
one child herself it gave her a keen sympathy 
for the loneliness of the General. 

It was in a balmy summer temperature that 

he drove into the dusty little town of S to 

meet the travelers on the 20th of September, 
1896. The summer had been a hot one for 
that section of the country, and there was no 
suggestion of autumn, as yet, in the abundant 
vegetation. Arrived at the station. General 
MacDonald pushed hurriedly through the crowd 
of loungers, and in his anxiety to find Eleanor 
almost ran. over the insignificant Thompson, 
with his inevitable supply of canes and um- 
brellas. 

I beg pardon,’’ the older man said, apolo- 
getically, I was a little late and feared you 
and Eleanor would be looking for me.” 

Ah, yes ! to be sure ; thank you,’' an- 
swered Alec in disjointed sentences. Elea- 
nor was right behind a moment ago.” A 
happy laugh from that young person was 
music to the General’s ears, and in a few 
more moments the whole party, brought up 
in the rear by an attractive French maid 
9 


130 A Waiting Race. 

and a portly Dutch man servant carrying 
the usual complement of traveling rugs, band- 
boxes and bird cages, were on their way to 
Meadowland. 

Having left there in all simplicity, and with 
no servants in attendance, the General could not 
but smile at this change, knowing full well 
who to attribute it to. Alec had a large and 
generous notion of what was proper for Elea- 
nor, and as she made no objections to bringing 
home a pretty little French girl, who had taken 
the most sincere fancy to the lovely American, 
he selected for his own body servant a respect- 
able Dutchman, who was eager to come out to 
America under the impression that the streets 
were paved with gold, that milk and honey 
would literally flow into his mouth with no 
effort on his own part, and that in less than a 
year he would be a rich man. 

Thus Babette and Hans, the two foreign do- 
mestics, became installed at Meadowland, Vir- 
ginia, bringing much amusement to the negro 
element on the farm, but also much comfort 
to their employers. 

Eleanor was, in her turn, secretly convulsed 
with laughter on one occasion to overhear a con- 


A Waiting Race. 13 1 

v(*rsation in broken French between the serious- 
minded Hans and the irrepressible Babette, to 
the effect that the negro cook must have been 
originally some very great man. On being 
asked why, Hans went into a long-winded ac- 
count of having seen on the Continent a black' 
prince from India gorgeously attired and with 
a retinue of slaves. For some mysterious rea- 
son the Dutchman took it into his absurd head 
that Virginia was full of such people, and that 
General MacDonald and the wealthy little 
Thompson had filled their pockets with the sur- 
plus wealth of the East Indian travelers, had 
then forced them into servitude and were en- 
joying the fruits of their scheme. In spite of 
all explanations to the contrary this obstinate 
sauerkraut eater clung persistently to the wild 
fancies of his brain, always treating William, 
the shiny, coffee-colored servant (twenty years 
at Meadowland) with the utmost consideration. 

A week after Eleanor’s return, Alec emerged 
from the lethargy that seemed to have settled 
upon him permanently, and announced his in- 
tention of going on a long ride. The mercury 
had dropped fifteen degrees in the night, and af- 


132 A Waiting Race. 

ter a lieavy rain storm the air was deliciously 
bracing and clear as crystal. 

It’s been deucedly warm and enervating, 
yon know,’’ Alec said to the General as they 
stood together at the front window of the din- 
ing-room, looking ont on the shining landscape. 

I felt like a washed-ont rag, I assure you, 
last w^eek, and to-day I seem to want a good 
gallop on Prince to get the cool air well into my 
lungs.” 

At the mention of the horse the General 
turned quickly around, and said : AVhy not 
take Gipsy, my dear hoy; he is a safer horse, 
and has enough spirit, I should think, to sat- 
isfy you. I fear you will kill yourself some 
day if you persist in riding Prince, and as an 
old soldier and cavalryman I can honestly say 
I would not like to tackle him myself. He is 
uncertain, high-tempered and not averse to kick- 
ing on occasions, and though you are a fear- 
less whip, the best riders are often thrown by 
such brutes as that.” 

Ah, by George, General,” Alec answered 
drily, you are too solicitous about me, for I 
have ridden Prince a hundred times without 
an accident, and hope to ride a hundred more. 


133 


A Waiting Race. 

It’s very good of you, to be sure, to warn me, 
but,” with an amiable smile, I can look out 
for myself all right, and I must get out.” With- 
out another word he left the room to give or- 
ders to Hans, and the General, seeing that Alec 
was obdurate, took up his newspapers and set- 
tled himself for a comfortable smoka 

Eleanor had excused herself just as breakfast 
was coming to an end, and had not heard the 
conversation between her husband and father. 
Half an hour later she passed the latter in the 
hall, and inquired where Alec was. On being 
told that he had gone for a ride, she quietly con- 
tinued her way to the housekeeper’s room at the 
end of the wing. It had not occurred to the 
mistress to ask any one what horse was taken 
out of the stable for her husband, and as he 
often left the place suddenly on fine days for 
an hour’s gallop there was nothing in his ab- 
sence to occasion unusual alarm. 

One hour later she began to think of Alec as 
the time approached for their duets, and grow- 
ing a little restless she stepped out on the piazza 
to see if he were in sight. It w^as high noon 
now, and growing warmer, and she thought he 
surely must come soon. Shading her eyes with 


134 ^ Waiting Race. 

her hand she stood in an attitude of easy grace, 
half leaning against the stone support to the 
steps, her mobile face a little pale, and her idle 
hand nervously fingering her dress. 

Hans had just come around from the kitchen 
to ask if she wished to take Gipsy for the after- 
noon drive, and in a flash it occurred to her that 
Alec had selected Prince for his ride. Often 
before now the same thing had happened, and 
she felt far less uneasiness than to-day, but with 
that instinctive dread of knowing the whole 
truth that seems to precede a disaster she hesi- 
tated some moments before asking Hans if 
Prince were off the place. The answer in the 
affirmative was hardly out of his mouth .before 
Eleanor turned white to the lips, stammering 
out : Look there, Hans, your master — out 

there — look — O God ! ’’ Her breath came in 
quick gasps, and she clutched the startled Hans 
by the shoulder. What they saw was Alec, pale 
and exhausted, about a hundred yards away, 
tugging violently on Prince’s bit, while the 
white foam from the horse ran dovm in streams 
to the ground. It was evident that the animal 
had run for miles at break-neck speed, and that 
Alec had only just succeeded in getting the 


A Waiting Race. 135 

better of him — ^tbougb from tbe pallor of the 
rider one judged this advantage could not last 
long. 

Hans lost no time in rushing to the assistance 
of the unfortunate young man; hut as he 
neared the horse Alec waved to him to stand 
aside. He thought that the man servant would 
irritate the already infuriated animal : and 
with a single lash of his whip he attempted to 
force Prince to go up to the gate calling Hans 
to step behind it until he passed through. One 
moment more, which seemed a year to Eleanor, 
as she watched with a beating heart, and horse 
and rider were plunging wildly in the air. 
Prince had determined to go no further; and 
before Hans could rush from behind the gate 
and seize the horse’s bridle, a loud cry broke 
from Alec Thompson as he went down; the 
horse first throwing him violently to the ground, 
and then giving a vicious kick with his front 
feet as if to finish his victim. 

With a courage born of desperation Eleanor 
could wait no longer, and like the wind she had 
rushed to the scene of trouble. The distracted 
Hans, seeing her light, flying skirts, caught and 
held the horse despite his violence, as she 


136 A Waiting Race. 

brushed past .them both to reach her husband’s 
side. 

One agonizing moment more, and she had 
knelt by the prostrate form, and felt his un- 
responsive hand. He was quite dead, the fall 
having broken his neck in .two places. The blue 
eyes were closed forever, and the almost boyish 
curls of auburn hair were damp with" the dews 
of death. 

A cry of horror broke from Eleanor, as she 
touched the lifeless flesh; and as suddenly as 
she had rushed to Alec’s aid, so now she re- 
coiled. Stepping backwards, and throwing her 
arms wildly over her head, she fell full length 
to the ground, exclaiming : Alec, Alec, Alec ! ” 


A Waiting Race. 


137 


CHAPTEE XIX.^ 

Let me not to the marriage of true minds 
Admit impediments. Love is not love / 

Which alters when it alteration finds, 

Or bends with the remover to remove ; 

O no I it is an ever-fixed mark 

That looks on tempests and is never shaken ; 

It is the star to every wandering bark, 

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken. 

Shakespeare. 

. Two years have passed away, and antnmn 
has come again with its yellow and red foliage, 
its cool, delicious nights and days of regal 
splendor. 

At Woodlawn, Mrs. Leighton’s bright pots 
seem brighter than ever to Eleanor, as she sits 
in her quiet black dress under the shade of an 
old oak tree, and watches her hostess moving 
about from flower to flower. The girlisH 
gaiety that had once seemed almost childish, 
had been sobered by the wearing of her widow’s 


138 A Waiting Race. 

weeds, and the sweet young mouth had a few 
tiny lines around it despite its healthful red- 
ness. In the deep brown eyes, one can still 
read of some great shock that had swept over 
her like a storm, some regret that had left a 
pathetic look of appeal and distress; but they 
were not the eyes of one who has loved and lost 
all that life holds dearest; and in their pure 
depths, from time to time, a brightness as of 
the sun breaking through the clouds, makes one 
faithful heart glow with pride and hope. 

During the twenty-four months of Eleanor’s 
widowhjood, Arthur Leighton had shown the 
same reserve, the same consideration that had 
marked his conduct after the announcement of 
her engagement, and after her marriage. As a 
family friend and on account of the cordial 
relations between his mother and General Mac- 
Donald, it was impossible for the young man 
to stay away from Meadowland at the time 
of Alec Thompson’s tragic death. 

To make clear the events of that terrible day 
and those that followed, it will be necessary 
to go back in our story to the time when Hans, 
after conquering Prince, rushed about the 
house like a madman — a volley of Dutch words 


139 


A Waiting Race. 

pouring out of his mouth. The General had 
difficulty in understanding everything he said; 
but missing Eleanor, and alarmed at her ab- 
sence, he hastily summoned all the domestics 
and ordered them to follow him. He feared 
she might have been hurt in trying to save her 
husband ; and as he approached the white form, 
lying so still, something like a hand clutching 
his heart seemed to seize him. From that 
awful suspense and shock he never fully re- 
covered, and in Eleanor’s two years of widow- 
hood, he had seemed to age fully ten, though 
still at sixty-*six years a fine specimen of a 
soldier and gentleman. 

To arrange for the carrying of Alec Thomp- 
son’s remains to the house, and to raise Eleanor 
gently from the ground, was the distressing 
duty the old General discharged with a dignity 
and forced calm, pathetic to see. And in the 
dreadful hours that followed, in which he hung 
anxiously over his beloved child he seemed to 
have suffered the concentrated misery of years. 

She was unconscious for a period of two 
hours after her fall, and on her coming back 
to the reality of life, she had burst into wild 
sobs and shrieks intermingled with broken, 


140 A Waiting Race. 

inarticulate words more distressing than tears. 
Mrs. Leighton and the nearest physician had 
been hastily sent for, and with gentle care and 
prudent nursing the young, untried constitu- 
tion asserted itself to the satisfaction of her 
watchers. Gradually, the wild look of hor- 
ror in the eyes was replaced by a more natural 
calm ; and in a few weeks Eleanor seemed quite 
herself to those who were not observant enough 
to notice a subtle change. 

After Alec Thompson’s funeral she rarely 
spoke of him even to her father; but Mrs. 
Leighton with a keen insight into the girl’s 
character, saw that her silence was not due to 
hopeless grief ; and she quickly set .to work to 
reason out the real cause. Mrs. Leighton had 
seen very little of Alec Thompson since the mar- 
riage; yet even that little was enough to con- 
vince her that he was very far from being the 
ideal man. 

In the eight months that the young couple 
had been abroad out of the eleven of their short 
married life, she had never reasoned much 
about Eleanor’s happiness, until suddenly 
brought face to face with a calamity that 
would have proved overwhelming to a deep na- 


A Waiting Race. 141 

ture like that of the girl the older woman had 
known from childhood. In the time that she 
spent at Meadowland immediately after Alec’s 
death, she seemed to get closer than ever to El- 
eanor, and saw more and more clearly that had 
that marriage continued until old age, the wife 
would most likely have developed into a dis- 
appointed and unhappy woman. As it was 
they were both young, Alec was generous and 
affectionate; life had many pleasures in store 
for them; and the beginnings of discontent for 
Eleanor were silenced for ever by the strange 
fa,te that had overtaken her husband in the very 
height of their prosperity. 

It was not unnatural, therefore, as time went 
on and the loving mother saw Arthur Leigh- 
ton’s faithful devotion, that she should hope 
and pray that one day he might receive his re- 
ward. Her refinement and good sense pre- 
vented her from importuning him or cross- 
questioning Eleanor ; and only to her hus- 
band did she ever breathe a word of that fond 
hope that had been cherished so long and so re- 
luctantly given up, when Eleanor became the 
wife of Alec Thompson*. Mr. Leighton would 
smile indulgently at his wife’s flights of fancy. 


142 A Waiting Race. 

when she would speak of Arthur’s one day win- 
ning Eleanor, as in reality he had paid very 
little attention to either of them; and not be- 
ing of a sentimental turn of mind he went to 
his business each day, entirely oblivious of the 
fact that a real romance was going on under 
his very nose. 

The first year of Eleanor’s widowhood was 
spent in the closest retirement, and she was 
rarely ever seen by Arthur; so that the poor 
fellow had a dreary time 'hoping and waiting 
for better things in the future. But on ac- 
count of her youth, Greneral MacDonald per- 
suaded her in the second year to come down- 
stairs in the evenings when company called; 
and Mrs. Leighton drove over from Woodlawn 
frequently to take her for a drive, or to ask her 
to spend the day. 

Gradually and naturally, and with the deli- 
cacy that was inherent in Arthur he worked 
faithfully towards the .goal before his eyes; 
and as gradually Eleanor yielded herself to the 
delights of being loved. At first she did not 
reason about her own feelings at all; she only 
knew that an unselfish loving nature was giv- 
ing to her all that he had; that an unspoken 


143 


A Waiting Race. 

sympathy for her trouble was constantly near 
her, never needing to as'k a question, and antici- 
pating her every wish. He seemed to know 
instinctively when to speak and how, and he 
felt it to be only right and natural that the 
horror of her husband^s sudden death should 
be uppermost in her mind for many months. 

There might, indeed, be other thoughts and 
feelings for her that would be painful and in- 
explicable; moments of remorse in her fear 
that she had not loved Alec as truly as he loved 
her (though she had seemed to those who knoAV 
her the ideal wife), and a half-expressed wish 
that she had been able to reach his side 
sooner. These were all useless regrets, per- 
haps, for she had nothing to reproach herself 
for ; yet Arthur respected and loved her all the 
more for them. 

She had not loved Alec as truly as she could 
love, simply because it was not in him to call 
out the best that was in her nature; and in 
marrying him she had simply mistaken her 
fancy for a man who was kind and generous 
to be genuine affection. Like many another 
strong character, she did not know then the 
hidden depths of passion in her nature, but it 


144 A Waiting Race. 

was destined for her that she should find them 
out under the influence of a character like Ar- 
thur Leighton’s. 

He had gone on steadily with his work until 
he had become the finest lawyer in his town, 
winning a place for himself in the regard of the 
older men that was worth far more than money, 
and holding his own in spite of all discourage- 
ments and drawbacks. Little by little Eleanor 
began to talk naturally of her own life to him, 
and almost unconsciously slipped from friend- 
ship into love. They read together, took walks 
and drives, each day drifting nearer and nearer 
to a perfect understanding — a halcyon exist- 
ence as unmarred and unclouded as a June day. 

One glorious evening when Eleanor had gone 
over to Woodlawn with flowers and fruit for 
Mrs. Leighton she had found the place almost 
deserted. Aunt Sally informed her that 
Marster Leighton and the Missus ” were at 
church, but that Marster Arthur ” had not 
been out of the house all day, as he was com- 
plaining of a headache, and looked kinder 
puny and dauncy-like.” 

The old woman had long since changed her 
mind with regard to Eleanor, and that joung 


145 


A Waiting Race. 

person had so completely won her over that 
she constantly sung her praises to Mrs. Leigh- 
ton, occasionally venturing a sly remark to Ar- 
thur to find out just how far their romance had 
progressed. She now looked attentively at 
Eleanor, who made a pretty picture, in her 
black and white costume outlined against the 
rosy, evening sky, and decided mentally that 
she would do.’^ 

Please give these flowers and fruit to Mrs. 
Leighton for me. Aunt Sally,’’ Eleanor said, 
holding out her hand. I am very sorry she 
is out, hut I could not stay long any way, as I 
must be back before dark. Father is not very 
well, and he asked me to leave a message for Mr. 
Arthur Leighton to come over to see him soon. 
How are you getting along. Aunt Sally, and 
how is your rheumatism? How I must really 
go in a hurry, so good-by,” and with a bright 
smile and nod she tripped down the steps and 
hurried away. 

Hot so fast, however, that Arthur could not 
catch up to her, and with a few long strides he 
was at her side. I heard your voice, though 
I could not see you from my seat in the dining- 
room,” he said a little breathlessly, and I 

lO 


146 A Waiting Race. 

hope you will wait a little while for mother to 
come in. I have been a little out of sorts all 
day, Eleanor, and you can cheer me. You know 
a man with a headache is not very pleasant 
company for himself — and sometimes not for 
others either. ITow do stay a little while, and 
let’s have a talk, and I can take you home 
later.” 

Eleanor hesitated before replying, the temp- 
tation to remain being great, yet with a secret 
feeling that she ought to go home. At the 
sight of Arthur’s eager face, however, her reso- 
lutions immediately weakened, and she yielded 
to the gentle influence near her. She had tried 
to get away after all, and he would not let her ; 
therefore she was not to blame. She had no 
home duty at this hour in the evening, and 
there was nothing wrong in talking to Arthur 
for half an hour. I will use my feminine 
prerogative and change my mind,” she said, 
with a gay little laugh. Father will not miss 
me too much if I stay a little while, and per- 
haps I shall cure your head by taking the pain 
away.” 

There was a slight nervousness in her man- 
ner now that Arthur noticed, and that for the 


A Waiting Race. 147 

first time disconcerted him. A sudden flush 
rose to his face, and looking quickly at her he 
saw that she had changed color also, and had 
dropped her handkerchief at his feet. 


148 


A Waiting Race. 


CHAPTER XX. 

O true hearts, what is gold and glitter ? What are 
The pomp and pride of state, 

To the joy that comes witli a full fruition, 

To the patient heart that can love and wait ! 

Maria C. Vinton. 

The picking up of a lady’s kandkerchief can 
bring two beads in as close proximity as tbe 
shaking of a carpet, so humorously described 
by Charles Dickens — that master of tender 
touches of human nature. 

Eleanor was the first to recover self-posses- 
sion, as she had been the first to lose it ; some- 
thing in the situation seemed to amuse her. She 
laughed a little, and with easy, graceful step 
walked on down to the gate, Arthur following 
her and devouring her with his eyes. Sud- 
denly he turned around and said very sol- 
emnly : Eleanor, it was pure chance that 
brought you here to-day ; hut had you not come 
I think my own feelings would have forced me 


149 


A Waiting Race. 

to seek you/’ ISTo answer to this, but Eleanor 
turned her head in his direction, her lovely 
eyes grave again now, and the sweet mouth a 
little droopy. She knew what was coming, and 
gave herself up simply and naturally to the 
happiness of the hour. What woman does not 
know instinctively that a man loves her? Be 
she princess or shepherdess, the human heart is 
constructed on the same principles, and vanity 
aside she knows when to anticipate the impor- 
tant words. Do you not think I have been 
patient all this long, long time,” Arthur went 
on, and could you refuse to hear me now ? ” 
S.till no answer from Eleanor, and the dark 
eyes were lowered now to the ground. It was 
not shyness nor coquetry that kept back her 
words. Arthur deserved to hear her, she 
thought to herself and she knew her oa\ti heart 
too well to doubt the strength of her love for 
him. The fulness of her happiness, however, 
was so overwhelming that, before Arthur could 
continue, tears had welled up in her eyes, and 
she hastily put up her hand to brush them 
away. He looked at her again, and all his 
faithful, unselfish devotion shone in the strong, 
manly face and voice. My darling, tell me 


i5o A Waiting Race. 

that you love me : I cannot wait to hear you 
speak?’’ 

The spell was broken now, and Eleanor was 
on the point of answering when, to her amaze- 
ment, she caught sight of Abe galloping towards 
her. Before either she or Arthur could alter 
their manner towards each other the farm hand 
had accosted her in an excited voice, saying: 

Come home. Miss Eleanor, right away, 
please, ’cause your pa suttenly is sick. He 
keeps a callin’ for you, and as I knew you 
come down here to see Missus Leighton, I jes’ 
got on this here boss and we suttenly did come 
a hummin’ ! ” 

Eleanor lost no time in jumping in her 
buggy, and after putting a few questions to the 
man servant sent him into town for the family 
physician without a moment’s delay. Arthur, 
eager to be of assistance, his own heart beat- 
ing hard with the mingled distress and pleas- 
ure .of the liour, followed Eleanor and drove 
rapidly to Meadowland. 

It was enough for him that she had listened 
to him, had sought his eyes with her own, had 
let him call her his darling. He could wait 
for her final yes ” till she was relieved about 


A Waiting Race. 151 

her father ; he would not press her now that 
her mind was so troubled. With his customary 
unselfishness his first thought was for her as he 
glanced at the pale, sweet face, the lips tremb- 
ling, and the dear eyes full of unshed tears. 
He longed to take her in his arms and shield 
her from the whole world, and as her protector 
he felt that he could weather the storms of life 
for her sake, and bring her safely through them 
all. 

As George Eliot so beautifully says : In 
the love of a brave and faithful man there is 
always a strain of maternal tenderness,^’ and 
this was true of Arthur Leighton. His love 
was of that exquisite tenderness and delicacy 
that is only seen in natures of that kind, and is 
as rare in women as in men. Vanity and self- 
ishness are such common faults that often the 
priceless fruits that love can yield are killed 
in the bud, and the heart itself withers because 
the seeds are sown on a sordid ground. 

This man had shown that he could love and 
suffer and wait, and yet there was no change in 
his feelings. For him time did not exist where 
Eleanor was concerned, and he would love her 
till the day of his death, and after that through 


i52 A Waiting Race. 

eternity. He liad said so long ago to his 
mother, and lie had meant every word. How 
that his happiness was within his grasp he 
contrasted his present feelings with .those of a 
year ago, and inwardly thanked God for His 
goodness. The supreme moment of his bliss 
was not far away, and the full realization of the 
love of such a woman as Eleanor would be 
doubly sweet in the fuller possession. 

In amusing contrast to the romantic reflec- 
tions of Arthur Leighton were those of Abe, 
as he rode into town for the doctor. My pa- 
tience, there suttenly must be something new 
up between them two young people. ’Pears to 
me like I tuk a note onced for Miss Eleanor 
to that young man, and Sally told me she 
thought it giv’ him the grand bounce. Any- 
how, later on she married that leetle fellow 
with lots of money, and Marster Arthur never 
did git over it, so Sally told me. She was 
wuked up ’nough to fight, and kep’ on sayin’ 
sour things ’bout my young mistus that riled 
me till I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. 
Anyhow, the young folks is all right now, and 
I suttenly am real glad Miss Eleanor ain’t 
gwine to stay a lonely widder woman. 


153 


A Waiting Race. 

She’s too young and peart to set all by 
herself in the chimley corner, and she’s gwine 
to have a fine young husband, too. Sakes 
alive, they’ll make a handsome pair a walkin’ 
up the church cyarpit! Reckon Sally’ll never 
leave her young master as long as he lives ; and 
when po’ old Genral kicks the bucket Miss 
Eleanor will git all his boodle, besides all dat 
rich husband left her. There’ll be some fine 
doin’s at Meadowland some day, and even po’ 
old Abe’ll have his good times. Every dawg 
has his day, anyhow, and I ain’t had mine 
yet ! ” 

Vigorously slapping his knee and forgetting 
entirely for the moment the sad errand upon 
which he had been sent, this worldly-minded 
old African entertained himself with castles in 
Spain during the rest of his ride — that ride 
that brought to Eleanor the keenest anguish 
her heart had yet known. 


154 


A Waiting Race. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

The clouds that gather round the setting sun 
Do take a sober coloring from an eye 
That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality ; 

Another race hath been, and other palms are won. 

Wordsworth. 

The long night of sorrow and suffering was 
gone, and towards daylight, Eleanor, pale and 
exhausted with weeping, had thrown herself on 
her knees by her father’s bedside, chafing the 
dear hands in her own, and calling him by 
every loving name that her tender heart sug- 
gested. 

The physician had spent the night at the 
house, and so also had Arthur and Mrs. Leigh- 
ton, to he near Eleanor in that terrible moment 
when she should he called upon to give hack 
to God, the Eather of all, that which had been 
given to her. Mrs. Leighton was one of those 
women ever ready to go to the sick and dying, 
and her distress for the sorrow that was hang- 


155 


A Waiting Race. 

ing over Meadowland was emphasized in the 
sweet pathos of her voice. All night she and 
Eleanor had watched closely for a change in 
the condition of the sufferer, as the physician 
had told them he might linger twenty-four 
hours, but that with returning consciousness he 
might die more suddenly, his vitality being 
lower than was at first supposed. 

The heart attack from which Eleanor found 
him suffering on her arrival at the house with 
Arthur had brought the most alarming faint- 
ing spells ; and in the early morning light Elea- 
nor waited breathlessly for a sign of recogni- 
tion from those eyes that had always lit with 
pride and joy at the sight of her face. She 
yearned for his returning consciousness for an- 
other reason, and a heavy weight of some re- 
sponsibility seemed to rest upon her that made 
her young face paler and sadder than ever. 

Her father was a good man, she knew, and 
all his people had been members of the Church 
of England, even before coming to America. 
Eleanor herself was a devout Episcopalian, and 
often the General had attended church service 
with her. Yet she could not recall his mention 
of the Holy Communion; and once having 


156 A Waiting Race. 

asked him if he would prepare for the recep- 
tion of it, he had said : Some day, my child, 
I really will do as you askd’ With that incon- 
sistency in men that sees that a religion is good 
and wishes all the women of the family to keep 
up with it he had put off looking to the salva- 
tion of his own soul till the time when he 
should be called upon to answer for it at the 
hands of his Maker. 

To Eleanor’s mind it was horrible for any 
human being, no matter how pure, to be rushed 
into eternity with absolutely no preparation, 
no heavenly food to sustain and strengthen the 
soul for its journey through the dark shadows 
of the unknown. She told her fears, therefore, 
to the sympathetic Mrs. Leighton; and it was 
decided that the rector of their church should 
be sent for as soon as the physician had suc- 
ceeded in bringing the patient to a partially 
normal state. 

Meanwhile poor Arthur had had a terrible 
night, and with thoughtful love for both Elea- 
nor and his mother he had stayed within reach', 
but out of sight, his heart aching to see and 
comfort Eleanor, and suffering a thousand 
pangs over his helplessness to prolong for one 


157 


A Waiting Race. 

hour the life that was ebbing away under her 
eyes. He had asked his mother to tell the Gen- 
eral that he was in the house, to try for him to 
show his sympathy, and after that there was 
nothing left but to wait and hope and pray — 
as he had done before now in waiting for 
Eleanor’s love. 

The hours dragged on, and at last the Gen- 
eral opened his eyes. They rested on the girl- 
ish, kneeling figure at his side, and he made a 
feeble movement with the hands she was hold- 
ing. Instantly she aroused herself and peered 
into his face, her dark eyes gazing at the 
changed features, all her soul shining through 
their moist depths. Father, dear father, 
don’t you know me ^ ” 

At the sound of her voice the films that 
seemed, to cover both brain and eyes of the 
patient were driven away, and a look of in- 
tense love and eagerness lit up the pallid face. 

Eleanor, my darling, my little girl. God 
bless you! I have been ill, and I feel very 
weak. Tell me, can you read me something 
now, my favorite collect that you know so 
well?” 

Eleanor started, and it seemed as though her 


158 A Waiting Race. 

own though, ts had penetrated to the mind of her 
father. She rose quietly, and bringing her little 
prayer book to the side of the bed she began to 
read : O God, the protector of all that trust in 
Thee, without whom nothing is strong, nothing 
is holy; increase and multiply upon us Thy 
mercy ; that Thou being our Ruler and Guide, 
we may so pass through things temporal, that 
we finally lose not the things eternal. Grant 
this, O Heavenly Father, for Jesus Christ’s 
sake our Lord. Amen.” 

With the last words Eleanor’s voice broke 
and died away into a whisper, hut her father 
still retained that eager look, and in a moment 
more spoke again. That is the collect for the 
fourth Sunday after Trinity, and I remember 
hearing in church the beautiful Epistle of St. 
Paul to the Romans. Read to me darling, 
once more.” 

Poor Eleanor , her heart bursting with grief, 
began a second time ; I reckon that the suffer- 
ings of this present time are not worthy to be 
compared with the glory which shall be revealed 
in us.” 

A pause, during which Mrs. Leighton had 
passed her arm protectingly around Eleanor, 


A Waiting Race. 159 

who finished with a sob. For the earnest ex- 
pectation of the creature waiteth for the mani- 
festation of the sons of God/’ she went on, when 
her father checked her. Ill as he was, and 
within a few hours of death even, his fine mind 
was clear to the last, and the impressions made 
in time of health were the ones now that came 
back to comfort him. 

There is something in there about the glori- 
ous liberty of the obildren of God ; read 
that.” 

For the creature was made subject to vanity, 
not willingly, but by reason of Him who hath 
subjected the same in hope, because the crea- 
ture itself also shall be delivered from the 
bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty 
of the children of God,” Eleanor continued, her 
voice quivering more and more, and her efforts 
at self-control giving way under the emotions 
called up by the words. 

My child,” the General began again, my 
soul is troubled. I have not been the Christian 
I ought to have been. Will He forgive ? Can 
He receive me, wretched and blind as I am, 
to go into that Holy of Holies ? ” 

^^•My darling father,” Eleanor cried, greatly 


i6o A Waiting Race. 

distressed, I know that He can and will. I 
will call Mr. Williams, and he will talk to you 
far better than I can,’^ and rising from her knees 
she was on the point of leaving him for a mo- 
ment. , 

Motioning to Mrs. Leighton to retire, the 
General put hia hand lovingly on his daughter ’’s 
head, and said : Tell me, darling, where Is 
Arthur ? ’’ 

Eleanor blushed deeply and turned her face 
away a moment before replying. He has 
stayed here with his mother all night. He is 
so fond of you, so anxious to help, so distressed 
for me.'’ 

A sweet gleam of sunshine seemed to break 
through the room as the sick man listened to 
her words. He loves you, my darling, with 
his whole heart, and can make you happy when 
I am gone. His heart is true and pure, and T 
have hoped yon might learn to love him, for 
surely he must have told you.’’ 

Yesterday, dear father," Eleanor an- 
swered, he was just telling me of his love when 
Abe came to say you were so ill. I never had 
a chance to answer, for I was terrified about 
you.” 


A Waiting Race. i6i 

And jovLV answer, darling, , what would that 
have been ? ’’ 

There was no hesitation now in Eleanor’s voice 
or manner, and stooping over the bed, her lips 
close to her father’s ear, she whispered : I 
would have told him that I love him. Be com- 
forted, dear darling.” And with a burst of 
sudden tears she kissed again and again the dear 
face, and hurried from the room. 

One hour later General MacDonald was rest- 
ing quietly. The sick room was full of those 
who had known and loved him so many years 
in health, and who were to stay beside him 
until he passed into the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death. Abe and William had come to pay 
their last respects to the dying man, and poor 
Abe, who now reproached himself bitterly for 
his flippancy the day before, was sobbing audi- 
bly. The penitent had made his peace with 
God, had partaken of angel’s Food, and though 
the sands of life were slowly running out, that 
look of anxiety and pain had faded completely 
away, leaving the strong face as calm as a lake 
in summer. 

Every known remedy had been used to pro- 
long life, but it was clear, from the extreme 


i62 a Waiting Race. 

weakness of the patient, that the next sinking 
spell would be his last. Eleanor treasured each 
moment of that painless consciousness as a price- 
less pearl, the memory of which would be with 
her through all the agony of ^parting, and soften, 
as far as possible, the blow that else must have 
crushed her with its cruel weight. 

Her lovely, tear-stained face seemed to Ar- 
thur already to have received that heaven-sent 
strength he had prayed for ; and in the lustrous 
dark eyes, despite the look of suffering, there 
was a courage and dignity that thrilled him 
through and through as he watched her. The 
masses of her dark hair had become loosened 
from the agitation of the past night, and one 
love-lock almost touched her father’s fface as 
she leaned towards him. He noticed it, and 
with a look of ineffable tenderness whispered 
something to her. In a moment she had placed 
the brown curl in his hand, pressing it gently 
to his lips, and burying her head in her arms 
to hide the suffusion of blood which rushed 
over neck and brow at the thought that Arthur 
was watching her. 

But she need not have minded those quiet 
gray eyes; the indulgent eyes of affection are 


A Waiting Race. 163 

the ones that never misunderstand. To him 
she was the embodiment gf purity and grace, 
as free from aiffectation as the wild rose that 
bloomed beneath her window, and as eet. 
Suddenly, still looking at Eleanor, he came 
nearer to the dying man and laid his hand on 
that of his friend. It was not too late to say 
some little word of comfort surely ; and he had 
kept away only in order to allow undisturbed 
quiet to those who had greater claims upon the 
precious moments. 

A burst of morning light suddenly flooded 
the room, the dancing sunbeams darting here 
and there till they seemed to brighten every 
object with unnatural realism. To the eyes 
so soon to look upon the Heavenly Vision this 
earthly flood .of radiance seemed a prophetic 
sign that his soul would find favor in the realm 
of Mysteries. 

Motioning to Eleanor for her hand, and 
clasping his feeble fingers around those of Ar- 
thur, the last great effort of General MacDon- 
ald’s life was to join those two young hands. 

Eleanor — ^Arthur — God keep you! — Eor — 
better — for worse — in sickness and health — 
fill death ” The last words were inaudible, 


164 A Waiting Race. 

and only the guardian angel heard that faint 
echo before the tired spirit winged its flight 
into a heavenly Paradise. 

But Arthur Leighton had regained his earthly 
Paradise, and in that moment of exquisite pain 
and exquisite bliss his eyes sought those of 
Eleanor. She turned them upon him in all 
their glorious beauty, and the darh night clouds 
of doubt were transformed into the love-light of 
endless day. 


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